I never believed in mirages,
For the coming paradise I donít get on with a suit-case, -
The teachers were gobbled up by a sea of lies -
And spit out in Magadan.
I didnít differ from ignorant persons,
And if I differ - very little,
Budapest left no splinters,
And Prague has not torn my heart.
And we made a noise in life and on the stage:
We are muddle-heads, boys until now, -
But soon we shall be noticed and appraised
Hey! Who is against it? We shall show them!
But we could sense danger
Long before the cold weather set in,
With shameless tarts came serenity -
And locked the souls with a bolt.
Although executions do not threaten,
But we lived not daring to raise our eyes, -
We are also children of awful years in Russia,
The periof of social stagnation poured vodka into us.