| Guys, look for Aelita!
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| You see, boy, the cacti are in bloom!
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| You spread the golden song
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| Waiting for beauty at home.
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| Seven roads - and each one is about it,
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| And the eighth is drunken water.
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| The bride will fly from the other world,
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| Guessing the groom by the song.
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| He will see the guitarist from the rocket,
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| Will call the intoxicated for centuries,
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| Laugh with silvery laughter
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| And melt the heart of a simpleton.
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| She has chiseled knees
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| And such a frightened eye ...
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| You are stirring logs in the stove,
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| Calm down Aelita with a song.
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| Anyway, you are not a seasonal boy -
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| You sing, but you have to calculate.
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| You have important reasons
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| To lull the Martian women with song.
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| You haven't been on a foreign planet,
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| I did not sit on someone else's stern.
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| The Martian knows: To the Son of Heaven
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| Two wings are tangled in shit.
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| Here is a cactus half a liter spilled,
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| Here on Mars the hut is carried away.
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| Guys, look for Aelita:
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| Aelita is the best of women!
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| It doesn't matter that electrons howl,
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| There is a stream of old songs in my soul!
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| Shoot yourself, Chaos, Cosmos, Chronos, -
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| Do not appease your heart's whisper!
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| Shoot yourself, Chaos, Cosmos, Chronos, -
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| Do not kill your heart with a whisper! |