Ancient-russian yearning (BG)
Where are you rushing, troika, where are you heading a way?
Wheels were handed in a museum, whole of museum was carried away,
In every home is heard whether a song or a groan,
As is predicted saints, all are hanging by a thread,
I'm looking on this affair in ancient-russian yearning...
On the field of ancient battle there are neither lances nor bones.
They went on souvenirs for tourists and guests,
Dobrynia spat on Russia, and in Milan he repairs the gas,
Alyosha, a gift that Popovic, sold the whole of iconostasis.
One Ilya scares girls, jumping in one sock,
And I'm looking on this affair in ancient-russian yearning...
An affair of Yaroslavna is bad, she has no time to weep,
She is in the office with half-seventh; her briefing exactly at five,
And all boyars on "Toyota", they publish "Playboy" and "Vogue",
After selling forests and oil to the West, SS20 – to the East.
Prince Vladimir, cursing, steers in the sea on a board,
I'm looking on this affair in ancient-russian yearning...
At walls of monastery again a big stir,
By shallow river to them sailed god with fourteen-handed.
With swearing, monks are waving sticks, are running him to save,
And god looks that affair is bad and screams "let go, let go",
The Abbot in a woman's dress so and is jumping on the sand,
I'm looking on this affair in ancient-russian yearning...
And over dazed Moscow into the sky climb scaffolds,
And finger of custodians of sanctity is dancing on the trigger,
Sign of chervonets appears instead of face on a chalkboard,
Hare Krishna are walking in the ranks on Arbat and Tverskaya,
I'm afraid I'm fed up of ancient-russian yearning...
Where are you rushing, troika, where are you heading a way?
Wheels were handed in a museum, whole of museum was carried away,
In every home is heard whether a song or a groan,
As is predicted saints, all are hanging by a thread,
I'm looking on this affair in ancient-russian yearning...
On the field of ancient battle there are neither lances nor bones.
They went on souvenirs for tourists and guests,
Dobrynia spat on Russia, and in Milan he repairs the gas,
Alyosha, a gift that Popovic, sold the whole of iconostasis.
One Ilya scares girls, jumping in one sock,
And I'm looking on this affair in ancient-russian yearning...
An affair of Yaroslavna is bad, she has no time to weep,
She is in the office with half-seventh; her briefing exactly at five,
And all boyars on "Toyota", they publish "Playboy" and "Vogue",
After selling forests and oil to the West, SS20 – to the East.
Prince Vladimir, cursing, steers in the sea on a board,
I'm looking on this affair in ancient-russian yearning...
At walls of monastery again a big stir,
By shallow river to them sailed god with fourteen-handed.
With swearing, monks are waving sticks, are running him to save,
And god looks that affair is bad and screams "let go, let go",
The Abbot in a woman's dress so and is jumping on the sand,
I'm looking on this affair in ancient-russian yearning...
And over dazed Moscow into the sky climb scaffolds,
And finger of custodians of sanctity is dancing on the trigger,
Sign of chervonets appears instead of face on a chalkboard,
Hare Krishna are walking in the ranks on Arbat and Tverskaya,
I'm afraid I'm fed up of ancient-russian yearning...