Брошенный богом мир [Broshennyy bogom mir] [English translation]

The rabbles are in gold,

It’s congested in the room, it’s congested in the city,

The whole world is a big jail.

Mess.

Summer in the cold, dances in the cold,

Who is on the line?

It is darkness speaking.

Silence.

And the smithers are not to be glued

And the gloom is not to be veered out.

See how wolves are being spawn

From stray dogs.

Plug your head into the TV

Wear holes in your couch.

You are already posthumously written in this

World forsaken, forsaken, forsaken by God.

Whether a screw or a screw-nut, a wolf or a hare -

Who were you, who were you not,

Who can figure it out?

Turn around!

You’ve become a small sheep,

You are standing with a candle now,

Nowadays God is like a fig’s leaf for you.

Kinda clean.

No need to doubt –

Time does not go backwards.

At midnight straight a day will be shipped from storage.

But it is not the point right now.

I crave so much for the one,

Who will bring a ray of light

Into this world forsaken, forsaken, forsaken by God.

• Artist:Mashina vremeni