Свобода [Svoboda] [English translation]

I'm going to you, this strange place,

Mist on the swamp without colour or an end,

I'm your eternal bridegroom, golden bride,

The window pane catches ideas like flies.

Winter on my back, I'm not old or young,

Night is like the lift in which the poet died,

I'm well fed, but I woke from hunger,

My fingers feel for my pulse, I yawn at the light.

Chorus:

Mama, wake me in the evening,

Mama, so I don't sleep through the night,

Mama, I'll leave as scheduled,

Mama, mama, mama, I'm so tired

Thunder in the eyes, opposite wrinkles,

A grey-haired hand scrabbles at the glass,

Floating past are the causes of fallen ideas,

Barely visible in the fog are the branches of the century.

The final station grows behind the window,

Here, the burial service is on the ground floor,

Hello, my love, take this information,

Don't miss it, and remove your makeup.