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Homeland

Versions:
God, I've been walking for so many years, but never made a step.
God, I've been searching for so many days for what's always with me.
For so many years I've been eating the raw love instead of bread.
So much life is being spat into my temple
By the blue finish barrel of the long awaited distance!
 
Black headlamps by the neighbours' gates, 1
Bittercups, handcuffs, a torn mouth.
So many times my head rolled down
From the overflown scaffold thither whither
 
[Chorus 1:]
The Homeland is.
I'm heading to the Homeland,
Let them shout she is ugly,
We love her somehow.
Though she is not fair,
And trustful to the scum,
While singing us her tra-la-las..
Hey, warden!
 
God, how much truth is in the eyes of the government whores!
God, how much faith is in the hands of retired hangmen!
Don't let 'em roll up the sleeves,
Don't let 'em roll up the sleeves
Of scurrying nights once again!
 
Black headlamps by the neighbours' gates,
Bittercups, handcuffs, a torn mouth.
So many times my head rolled down
From the overflown scaffold thither whither
 
[Chorus 2:]
The Homeland is.
I'm heading to the Homeland,
Let them shout she is ugly,
We love her somehow.
A sleeping beauty,
Trustful to the scum,
While singing us her tra-la-las..
Hey, warden!
 
From under the black shirts 2 the red rooster 3 is breaking loose,
From under the good tsars4 the jelly is flowing into the mouths5,
Never before this world had both of them at once:
The Father6 was our God, and our Devil was
 
[Chorus 2:]
The Homeland.
I'm heading to the Homeland,
Let them shout she is ugly,
We love her somehow.
A sleeping beauty,
Trustful to the scum,
While singing us her tra-la-las..
Hey, warden!
 

• 1. Song is written by Shevchuk after reading 'Doctor Zhivago' novel
• 2. Russian extreme reactionaries of tsar period
• 3. that set fire to the houses of other nations, esp. jews
• 4. Russian mentality contemplates the ruler of the state as apriori innocent one, blaming some bad officials but not the 'tsar'
• 5. State propaganda, that's obvious
• 6. Stalin was called the Father of Nations. The song was written in 1989, not long before the USSR ceased to exist, in the times of unlimited freedom of speech, when some people used to spit onto the soviet past, painting it solely in black

2020

It leaves, crossing itself, the year twenty-twenty,
But our lungs are weightless as before.
We buried those who fell so untimely,
We spat out bullets, reached for verses score.
 
Ah, it's not so easy, it's not so easy...
Heaven is so close, yet, it is so far away.
The new rhymes wash away the grime. All the same,
The world has changed - it different became.
 
A white bird is flying over houses,
In the kitchens, greetings are boiled to Instagrams.
We’ll push night away with the hands of the live chain,
We’ll confront the hungry winds and it won’t be in vain.
 
Ah, so high, it’s so high
Heaven is so close, yet, it is so far away,
Can’t dodge, can’t reverse,
Nothing will be the same, brothers.
 
History is looking into the new frontiers,
Having washed the wounds with cold rain,
That which was lost yesterday in fires,
Today will be found from ashes arisen.
 
Ah, it's not so easy, it's not so easy...
Heaven is so close, yet, it is so far away.
Having turned off lighthouses and stars,
Autumn withdraws its regiments.
 
Ah, it's not so easy, it's not so easy...
Heaven is so close, yet, it is so far away.
The new rhymes wash away the grime.
The world has changed - it different became.
 

Night Lyudmila

From broken love at the window
Crystal veins freeze,
You look like spring is at war,
Like Shakespeare's death by treason.
You fly to Moscow on dogs,
On iron wolves to 'Gorbushka',
One hundred rings on my soul, two tattoos
Yes, in memory of a friend's leather jacket.
 
Hello, night Lyudmila,
Where have you been,
Where trouble roamed, I would have killed you,
What the hell, Lyudmila.
I fed you, I raised you,
Where the hell have you been.
 
At dawn, the wind extinguishes speech,
Young golden braids, barefoot,
At dawn, happiness will throw off the dress,
Painted fennecs at recess.
 
Combining Lolita with Joan d'Arc,
You sweep away the proposed dinner
On the benches the park battles,
But you don't need your old ensign.
You dream of devouring the lead role,
At the very least Poor Lisa,
For you, either the thrill or the pain,
And you stroll all night along the ledge.
 
Hello, night Lyudmila,
Where have you been,
Where trouble roamed, I would have killed you,
What the hell, Lyudmila.
I fed you, I raised you,
Where the hell have you been.
 
At dawn, the wind extinguishes speech
Young golden braids, barefoot,
At dawn, happiness will throw off the dress,
Painted fennecs at recess.
 
It's boring at home, as in an old man's dream,
Although dad hasn't been drunk for a week,
You compose a letter like Tatyana,
You are at the entrance on a dirty wall.
And in dreams to get tired of the star,
You make a date on the rooftop,
There are five rings on my chest, two tattoos,
Suddenly he also writes at least a word.
 
Hello, night Lyudmila,
Where have you been
Where trouble roamed, I would have killed you,
What the hell, Lyudmila.
I fed you, I raised you
Where the hell have you been.
 

When oil is over

When oil is over
You'll be with me again
When the gas is over
You'll be back to me in spring
We will plant forests and we will make our paradise in a bit
When everything is over
There will be volume in a soul
 
When oil is over, our president will die
And the world will become a little sadder, and tears will make the Greenland Ice
Losing this battle, Mercedeses will give their keys
And saddling up their horses again
Heroes will remove their swords
 
When everything is over
There will be Gold century
And we will fly again
Without fire behind our backs
Our wings will be stronger and our thoughts will become clear
 
When all money is over and all banks are empty
 
Flies of global projects will be eaten by fish in a river
And country will use its own language
All safety and anger of jealous eyes will be destroyed
We will breath easier when the gas is over
 
We will learn to love and to use our heads again
And free services and our endless arguments will end
All mermaids and fairies will pray for us
 
(Cheers to upgraded high tech manufacturing!)
 
When we drink all oil, when we smoke all the gas!
 

Yesterday I had a drink at FSB general home

Yesterday I had a drink at * FSB general home
Like all his place he was mighty and tall
I drank in the pool, office, spa, shooting gallery and so on
I've appreciated the porcelain of his Japanese toilet bowl
I drank in the pool, office, spa, shooting gallery and so on
I've appreciated the magnitude of his Japanese toilet bowl
 
'Are you really singing?'- 'Yes, I kind of try'
'Your colleagues are garbage and pederasts
This humor I would've collected once in gulag's paradise
And you're not too bad, talented and wearing glasses
This humor I would've collected once in gulag's paradise
And you're not too bad, bespectacled, pour some more for us'
 
'Well, son, let's raise the glasses for *V V, hooray!
Though, of course, he also frazzle out us all
We have everything: summer villas, guards, respect and money,
But I would like for our country to bloom under the strict control
We have everything: summer villas, guards, respect and money,
But I would like for our country to bloom under the strict control'.
 
'The oligarchs and thieves will rip apart our state to no end,
Soon we'll ask everyone, and they will answer for everything
I'm ready to die for our miserable Motherland
But, unfortunately, I have family and children
I'm ready to die for our miserable Motherland
But, unfortunately, bro, I have family and children'
 
'Yes, thank God, democracy has gone,
Common, lets drink, so Russia would flourish and faith would sing!'
After the fifth glass I grew bolder, and asked:
'Who worked and pay for the mansion?'
'None of your bloody business', he answered very grim
After the fifth glass I grew bolder, and asked:
'Who worked and pay for the mansion?'
'None of your bloody business', he answered very grim.
 
We drank for Chechnya and for Afghan,
With vodka came the hugs and pickled mushrooms, to no surprise
And I thought, bespectacled, meek and poor veteran:
' Among the generals there are some cool guys'
And I thought, bespectacled, meek and poor veteran:
' Among the generals there are some very lucky guys'
 
By morning he was sobbing openly and sad
He either put me against the wall, or was telling fortune on United Russia party card,
But, luckily, I didn't tell you the most horrible and main secret,
After all, I have my own family and kids in Volgograd
But, luckily, I didn't tell you the most horrible and main secret,
After all, I have my own family and kids in Volgograd
 

The Old Wartime Song

Versions: #2
Songs of our squadron are no longer heard.
Tinkly sounds of cleft hooves finished ringing.
Bullets pierced the bottom of the cooking pot.
Sutler girl is killed, but pain's still stinging.
 
Few of us are left: just us and our pain.
Few of us but our foes are fewer.
And as long as we live, frontline's our bane,
If we perish, Heaven's our future.
 
Holding rifle bolt, yet head feels gloom at hand,
Though it seems my soul soared free from fetters.
What's the point of writing with blood on the sand?
Nature has no use for our letters.
 
Sleep tight, dear brothers, it will all come back,
New commanders will be born, however
Newly drafted soldiers still will be on track
To receive their own apartments - never.
 
Sleep on, dear brothers, everything repeats,
Everything in nature runs in circles.
Words as well as bullets, blood and deep love beats.
Time for peace will never clear the hurdles.
 
© St.Sol @ LT: all rights reserved.

Autumn, Dead And Dying Rains

Versions: #2
Autumn, dead and dying rains,
Autumn, young approaching night frosts,
Frozen birch trees seem to be lost,
As they stump through Russian plains.
 
Autumn, drunken river flow
That has flooded country roadway,
Autumn, fear of deadly doomsday
On the old man you bestow.
 
Tatar face is my ordeal,
Though my last name is Ukrainian.
Why did I in drunken yearning
End up under driving wheel?
 
I am stabbed without a sword,
I am shot but not by bullet,
You have blown my candle out,
Autumn - furtive soul abhorred.
 
Drunken dregs fall from the skies,
Why do I repent before Him?
I believe the end is near,
In my veins quicksilver dries.
 
The poetic language bliss
Is a lightweight night chimera,
Love and Faith in my soul steer,
Rake the clouds, what did I miss?
 
Autumn, feeling old like rains,
Autumn, young approaching night frosts,
Frozen birch trees seem to be lost,
As they stump through Russian plains.
 
© St.Sol @ LT: all rights reserved.

Far Away, Far Away...

Far away, far away are the carefree old days,
I watch them fade away with such ease in a daze.
I hear silence unfurled that keeps quiet and tame,
I see war and the world, I warm night with my flame.
 
I'm a roadway, a roadway,
Yeah-yeah, a roadway, a roadway.
 
Far away in the sea there's no evil or woe,
You gave water to me, I dived deep down below.
Just my mistress the Moon can be seen far away,
Shadows gathered too soon, when she kissed the old day.
 
I'm a roadway, a roadway,
Yeah-yeah, a roadway, a roadway.
 
By the river we went, picking musical scales,
Now I see only trails of his feet on the sand.
 
I'm a roadway, a roadway,
Yeah-yeah, a roadway, a roadway.
 
Far away, far away...
 
© St.Sol @ LT: all rights reserved.

Freedom

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.
 

It Whistled By

Versions: #3
It whistled by and hit the table,
Bit out a chunk, and rolled down into the ashes,
Of killed songs, I have nothing to lose there,
The world is so small. Let me embrace you, brother.
 
Devils all around - come on, brother, press the pedal,
An hour until death - no pity for those burned,
In the clear fields are cherubs and cornflowers,
And we are free, no pain and no anguish.
 
In the sky we'll be greeted by Sashka and Ilya,
There'll be enough bread and 100 grams of vodka - it's impossible without those,
What would we cry for? Here there's no shame or suffering,
Heaven isn't slush - the blizzard is our paradise.
 
We'll talk about everything, from the sunrise to the sunset,
Mountains of soot and about the bitter marmalade,
That we'll eat when the war ends,
And how we sat in the Motherland, captive.
 

When You Were Here

I remember these flowers,
And how your soul danced.
And even the wind admired how you,
How you were so good!
Above the hunched sky of the Neva,
Living matter flew,
I have never seen greener grass,
Than when you were here.
 
And they found their names,
All the rivets on all the bridges,
And Spring changed the exhibits,
In the Kuntskammer and the Crosses,
Even in the silent stones,
I felt that there was something there.
There were no grey days,
When you were here.
 
Over the museums a moth sang,
Trembling and gentle,
The rain made it crumble, the role
That was so important to you.
The music in my heart -
Is silent in your honour.
I breathed water and fire,
When you were here.
 

You Have Got A Son

Versions: #2
You have got a son, all I've got is night,
You have got a home, smoke beclouds my sight,
Flying far away over father-flame,
It forms icy veil in my eyes, turned gray.
 
You enjoy a song, all I've got's the Moon,
In your home is warm, mine is freezing soon.
Behind me's the wall, in it: glass and door, -
That is all decor, that is my whole war.
 
Quality RU-EN and EN-RU translations by Ironic Iron.
Bringing joy of Russian music and poetry to the world.
When sharing, please thank & credit: (c) St. Sol @ LT.

Love's Labour's Not Lost (S)

Light, shade, something has happened
There where you gave your prayers
About our love which
No, which is not lost
About our love which
You've been looking for
 
Rain, night, Sunday is sleepy
All here looking for safety
Let's go till May then with Square Sennaya
Dancing on edge of this green paradise
And you, and me - everything worked out
And I, and you - the window's not random
Of all our love that has not been changed, no
Not everything's that flopped
In that square tea shop
 
Snow, years leading to sunset
No way, time for the day dawn
The seconds in palms ours
Are following our eyes
Who's there, behind us
Who is dancing behind us
 
The seconds in palms ours
Are following our eyes
Who's there, behind us
Who is dancing behind us
 
Love's Labour's not lost
Love's Labour's not lost
Love's out of breath though
But love is not lost, no (х2)
 
The seconds in palms ours
Are following our eyes
Who's there, behind us
Who is dancing behind us (х2)
 

A City Without Windows

Far, far, far away,
In the emptiness, your eyes ring.
Heavens in a dusty glass,
They see dark images.
 
So high, high,
The starlight born in silence.
They looked me deep in the heart,
And arrived like an angel going to war.
 
A city without windows, the planets revolved.
Bidding farewell, she gave me a locket of her hair in her memory,
A city without stairs, transparent rooftops,
I know you can hear the songs of spring.
 
The road to the stars froze,
The crystal gardens, faded.
The trace of stars like berries in your hands,
The city sleeps, and there is nothing to lament.
 
It's not easy, of course, it's not easy,
The sky swims following the light,
Life survives free and easy,
And this road is not forgotten.
 
A city without windows, the planets revolved.
Bidding farewell, she gave me a locket of her hair in her memory,
A city without stairs, transparent rooftops,
I know you can hear the songs of spring.
 

Don't shoot

Don't shoot at sparrows, don't shoot at pigeons
Don't shoot at them for fun from your slingshot
Hey little boy, don't shoot and don't brag to others
That you never miss living targets
You've been to every shooting range, you've impressed people
You've received prizes for excellent marksmanship
You were shooting with a smile, without aiming, easily and quickly
And the people around you were saying: 'What a lucky guy!'
 
Don't shoot!
 
One day your dream came true
He found himself in a combat zone
And when he finally came home
He steered clear of his old shooting range
And when somebody brought up the topic of the war
He drowned his conscience in hard liquor
He could still envision the little guy
Who was begging him for one thing
 
Don't shoot!
 

Mono city

*Vas', pour some spit in the glasses,
We already haven't eaten few days or more.
Should I sell to the *tadzhik my wife, *Vasya?
But I pity the fool, also pour for her.
 
They have made us free- its all done,
More precisely, we're f----g not needed to anyone,
And here I'm drinking by people's size swallows of s--t
Dregs dissolved with the spirit of spit.
 
Do pour some more and time to run.
 
Unemployment wanders the street, days and nights,
While gobble up the cream of the shop-windows all over.
Asking saleswoman to squint her eyes,
I went in to the shop with a revolver.
 
I'm widening the class of businessman-
Hey, security, don't sleep by the door, let me pass!
I'm private business, pay attention then,
Can of vodka and bread, only fast!
 
All have stopped: our plant, our factory-
From this erotics I've become a nauseous guy.
Up to chocolate wrap they've reduced our country,
The truth, our nuclear shield has survived.
 
Do not twist our brain, bureaucracy,
All we wanted is something to eat.
We were voting for single fraternity,
So the honor of maiden could always bloom sweet.
 
With a grateful tear I remember
Imperial might type *'М/Ж'
The servants are fighting with treacherous oil,
We are, the owners, drinking in the garage.
 
And everything was without hashish roll-ups,
Enough for them, not much for us,that's it.
Vasya, switch off the smart asses,
Do pour two hundred grams of the spit.
 
*Vas'ka, let us, dear, get through!
 
Unemployment wanders the street, days and nights,
While gobble up the sour cream of the shop-windows set.
Asking saleswoman to squint her eyes,
I went in to the shop with a big baseball bat.
 
You can see something good,only on prison plank bed,
Here, at least, they give us something to chew.
Languidly dancing in my tummy Russian alphabet,
Oh, my country, Motherland, I love you!
 

Ravens

In the sky there are ravens, and below the sky are monks,
I'm between them in a traditional embroidered shirt,
I lie in the open, bright and pretty,
The sun older, and the wind younger.
 
They buried me in a grand church,
I was a bride, a fair lady,
My soul stood by and sang,
But the people looked at my body in disbelief.
 
Fate and prayer changed places,
My beloved stood silent and made the sign of the cross,
His face barely lit by the light,
I forgave him - I forgave him for everything.
 
The spring, trembling from the sorrowful ringing of bells,
Shed three droplets on the face of the icon,
That peacefully rested between my arms,
And I kissed a happy flame.
 
The light burned out and the thurible fell,
The ground, groaning, transformed into a tomb,
I rushed to the sky like a delicate bird,
I'm free now - I'm a White Bird.
 
Soaring in farewell, smiling over my family,
I'm laughing, I can't understand their grief,
We'll meet again soon, but we will be different,
There is an eternal purpose, the flock calls to me.
 

Blizzard

Versions: #2
Words and music: Yuri Yulianovich Shevchuk & DDT
 
Crowned by the moon,
Like a lofty beginning,
Like a victory that isn't mine,
Like a hope that isn't easy.
Behind the window is a wall of blizzard,
It buries life up to its throat.
The frustrated finale blows off the hinges,
And guzzles all the warmth.
 
Play however you can play,
Close your eyes and go back.
Don't get lost, but grow,
Take a bow.
Thaw out my window,
And let spring into the fields.
Don't just live, but thrive,
You will be with me forever.
You will be with me forever.
You will be with me forever.
 
With me...
 
Lanterns search for the ground,
Their candlelight stretching to the sky,
On the snow traces of the dawn -
Wings of the fallen moon.
 
Well then, blizzard, a toast,
We drink time on an empty stomach.
I sing, and you, in tact, bark,
About lost things.
 
Play however you can play,
Close your eyes and go back.
Don't get lost, but thaw,
Take a bow.
Thaw out my window,
And let spring into the fields.
Don't just live, but thrive,
You will be with me forever.
You will be with me forever.
You will be with me forever.
 
With me...
 
Carefully, without haste,
With the white wind at your chest,
Where the boat is frozen in the ice,
The frozen soul waits...
 
Play however you can play,
Close your eyes and go back.
Don't get lost, but thaw,
Take a bow.
Thaw out my window,
And let spring into the fields.
Don't just live, but thrive,
You will be with me forever.
You will be with me forever.
You will be with me forever.
 
With me...
 

South West Wind

We slept for an entire eternity,
Trusting the weather forecast,
By measuring the stability of time,
We forgot the road to Spring.
 
Fences have arisen,
Limiting the infinite,
Where the dead seed comes to life
And love simmers over the armour.
 
But who has collapsed our caves?
Who tore us from hibernation?
Gnawed at numb skin,
buried in the evil ice?
 
It is the south-west wind,
The herald of the new era
It fell forth from us,
Bursting out of the darkness.
 
The ice retreats, which means,
We are going to see each other more often,
We will meet more often,
Flowers breaking the asphalt.
 
Tomorrow everything will be different,
Tomorrow will be different,
It is the south-west wind,
Escaping the void.
 
Tomorrow everything will be different,
Tomorrow will be different,
This south-west wind,
Escaping the void.
 
The south-west wind,
Liberated plankton from monitors,
Warmed our latitudes, like firewood,
A bonfire by revitalised water.
The south-west wind
Disconnected traffic lights,
By spilling ran on the city
The light of the star of Bethlehem.
 
All that was almost dead,
Became the dust of flowers,
Above my pen and paper
Not subject to any power,
The south-west wind,
Gifted us with bright wings,
Watered us with goodness and courage,
Established a connection with the sky.
 
The ice retreats, which means,
We are going to see each other more often,
We will meet more often,
Flowers breaking the asphalt.
 
Tomorrow everything will be different,
Tomorrow will be different,
It is the south-west wind,
Escaping the void.
 
Tomorrow everything will be different,
Tomorrow will be different,
It is the south-west wind,
Escaping the void.
 
It is the south-west wind,
Escaping the void.
It is the south-west wind,
Escaping the void...
 

Russian Rock

They buried Russian rock, they buried it,
Clouds of ash, crowds of burning and dust,
And it lay in a fine, attractive coffin,
Quite unlike a corpse.
 
They buried Russian rock, they buried it,
Teeth ached from the cold wind,
He ruffled tatters of the black spectrum,
And newspapers with sentences of decay,
They buried Russian rock, they buried it,
They pelted it with shit and crucified it,
They trampled it, divorced it, tore it,,
Abused it, swore and howled,
They buried the master of sex-atacks,
Semi-literate pop-minstrels,
All mummified after a fight,
Phonograms and slots,
Show-business covered all expenses,
Professional crowbars and shovels,
So that stupidity doesn't go out of fashion,
So that brains can blossom from cloth and wool.
 
Inspired, they carried the coffin and cancer recedes,
At the funeral they ate and drank sweetly,
Copulated, guzzled bread with gusto,
And crawled, it seems to them, up to the throat,
They buried the revolution of hearing,
The reflections of light and faith,
Who hasn't kicked the fallen in the ear,
Sadomasochists who don't nurse the pain,
Of those willing to turn out,
In Russia they always bury regularly,
We see more sense in death,
That lifeblood flows nicely.
 
The devil gnaws colourful cans,
Licks the skull with great optimism
Prays to holes, Pharisee-toadstools
Tamers of the global show
It's not important to me what style when it's slop
Hardcore, rap or something like that
It's important to sing like you breathe and not blather
So the Russian frost can walk over your skin
 
In the morning they came to enjoy -
Exhume with bleach and dust
Open the coffin and there, inside, emptiness
No one, not a worm, nor an artist
 
Hello from another world...
 

Church

I am a church without crosses
I fly, my arms outstretched
Along the sleepy shores
Of petrified torment
I am faith without reason
I am truth without a beginning
You hear how it cries -
The soul amongst the aspen trees
 
I am a bird without a sky
I am a stone echo
of half-forgotten places
A sad omen
The midnight moon
Bandages my wounds
And grey mist
bathes the church domes
 
I am a church without crosses
I flow for eternity into the ground
I heed words of the departed
And the singing winds
I am memory without goodness
I am knowledge without aspiration
A cooled down star
of missing generations
 
It is dark in my soul
Tattoos of betrayal
Broken glass
Ravaged walls
Tomorrow I will die
A rain of rest will fall
And I exit from memory
Exploding above the river