| And as on the river, beyond the forest,
|
| The slip came out, but in vain
|
| We sank a raft with iron,
|
| And on the sable iron.
|
| Who to blame? |
| Yes, like someone.
|
| Whom to execute? |
| Themselves.
|
| And if you run, there seems to be nowhere -
|
| Around Demidov land.
|
| And without that, it's not better than hard labor
|
| We have a life, even a howl of a wolf.
|
| And then beaten to death with katami
|
| Yes, and sent to slaughter.
|
| Not for a lesson - forever and ever.
|
| Goodbye birds and thunder.
|
| We are married with wheelbarrows,
|
| See only teeth and eyes.
|
| Oh, lyuli-lyuli-lyushenki,
|
| Our souls are gone.
|
| Yes, if only we were cordial,
|
| How much ruined - do not count.
|
| And then spring troubles erupted
|
| Yes, they strive to demolish the dam.
|
| Trouble went whipping on the wheel,
|
| Mortars are poured in Kashtym-city.
|
| Peddling along the Stone Belt
|
| The dashing working people went.
|
| There is a ringing in Chelyaba, the crowd is buzzing,
|
| Bells are ringing,
|
| Under the drum, under the howling of the horns
|
| Ivan Gryaznov himself enters.
|
| And who is this, and whose is this?
|
| Yes, he is an impostor and a thief,
|
| Yes, he is Demidov's serf
|
| Indulged in deception
|
| Leaked and hid in the foliage,
|
| Licked scars, stale soul,
|
| Yes, in the Pugachev army
|
| He is no ataman.
|
| He has already been seated in royal chairs,
|
| Repairs the authorities with a steep interrogation.
|
| With the people everything is good and kind -
|
| Well, seriously with the boyars.
|
| Freedom intoxicates the head,
|
| A fair trial is taking place
|
| Yes, it's a pity the governor took refuge -
|
| I would swing my belly in the wind.
|
| There is a ringing in Chelyaba, the crowd is buzzing,
|
| Bells are ringing.
|
| Under the drum, under the howling of the horns
|
| The court is headed by Ivan Gryaznov.
|
| And who is this, and whose is this?
|
| Have you been walking around the world for a long time?
|
| Old nun with a stick
|
| Guessing behind the stream,
|
| He guesses, but does not know,
|
| What a betrayal of Emelka.
|
| Circling in the steppe over troubles,
|
| Crows are waiting for blood.
|
| And how the filthy ones will circle
|
| Yes, the vile ones will fill the womb,
|
| Scarlet spots will cover the snow,
|
| Yes, only the memory will not be erased.
|
| Oh, how much patience we have been given,
|
| How much time will pass? |
| --
|
| He will raise Russia with oak, with a horn
|
| For the truth, lye people.
|
| Oh, lyuli-lyuli-lyushenki,
|
| Our darlings will not endure. |