2018.01.05.
In this city
In this city of white nights and winds,Misunderstood geniouses, sluts and thiefs.
Where is hope and love, although all this is in vain,
There is a place in the pub for you too.
Thursday in the Sunday, Wednesday in the Monday,
And you return home at 9.00 a.m.
Sometimes half-drunk, otherwise totally drunk,
You are Johnny Walker now and then you are Agdam*.
Why does the backstreets lead to nowhere,
And salt on the boots and water mixed with diesel oil?
Streets have been digged and it's always the same.
You'll never understand 'bout the weeping skies.
When spring blood is flowing free in your veins,
You want to get up but fall again.
And fewer friends, but more pillars,
Wherever you go, you'll back again.
Hey, buddy, pour a little, pub won't ruined!
Maybe it's a little less but much warmer,
You remember: no coward play hockey**,
Full it to the brim and didn't think about her.
Do you remember the one who played bura*** with guys?
She married a street cleaner and fell into Neva.
And remember'd girl with eyes that swelled with dreams?
She was seduced by Father Frost**** last week.
Andrey got married, Sergey in the jail,
Vovka in the hospital, Kolya in the war.
It's always the same, and a little sad,
Those who have left can not be returned.
Hey, buddy, pour a little, pub won't ruined!
Maybe it's a little less but much warmer.
Tell me, man, what should we do?!
Yes, of course, I remember... I'll give it back on payday!