Красные листья [Krasnye list'ya] [English translation]

My city was mighty and brave,

but one day it went mad.

And having gone mad, it created the Plague,

but it didn't know it was a Plague.

My city grew tired of all the chases and the badges,

It prayed and sang all spring,

and as autumn drew near,

it called together all the murderers to kill War.

At first, the murderers killed War

and those who wore army uniforms.

And for the first time, the soldier and his officer

lay down in the same bed (i.e. the grave).

Then they went after those

who forged weapons of war,

those who handed out soldiers' bread,

and those who collected it (i.e. the soldiers).

Red leaves are falling down

and burying themselves in the snow.

Red leaves are falling down

and burying themselves in the snow...

And when only the killers remained alive,

surrounded by a circle of blood and gore,

they wanted something to pass the time with,

so they started cutting each other up.

And the last one standing, thinking God was still up there,

filled a ditch with their bodies

and climbed toward Heaven on a ladder of corpses,

but fell back down and snapped his neck.

My city still stood, despite all the murders,

and it would have stood for another century still,

but to fight an evil, the city had spawned an evil worse still,

and slowly wrapped itself in a funeral-shroud of snow.

Perhaps the sun will rise once more

and melt the ice over the city.

But I'd be afraid to see for myself

the color of the meltwater from it.

Red leaves are falling down

and burying themselves in the snow.

Red leaves are falling down

and burying themselves in the snow...

• Artist:Nautilus Pompilius
• Album:Человек без имени