| Show me Moscow, I ask
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| Maybe I'll breathe it in,
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| Show me Moscow without guests
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| Domes and semi-darkness of squares.
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| Because I believe hundreds of people
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| Those who spoke about Moscow without any fuss,
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| Because among empty rumors,
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| There is the Arbat and there is the Donskoy Monastery.
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| And if the rain pours spring water,
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| I will be glad, I will be glad
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| Here Okudzhava quietly sings to us,
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| Okhotny Ryad, Okhotny Ryad.
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| A cat wanders on the Patriarch's Ponds,
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| And on Khitrovka I’m waiting for Gilyarovsky,
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| And in Stoleshnikov, well, it's just a disaster,
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| A whole host of memories and thoughts.
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| But since it happened to me to be a Petersburger,
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| Moscow will never become native,
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| But I want to know her and love her,
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| So show, Muscovites, your city.
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| And if the rain pours spring water,
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| I will be glad, I will be glad
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| Here Okudzhava quietly sings to us,
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| Okhotny Ryad, Okhotny Ryad.
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| Show me Moscow, Muscovites,
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| Well, show me it without embellishment,
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| We will walk on it, and we will be silent,
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| Yes, because we will not have words.
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| And if the rain pours spring water,
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| I will be glad, I will be glad.
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| Here Okudzhava sings Vizbor's song,
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| Okhotny Ryad, Okhotny Ryad.
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| Okhotny Ryad, Okhotny Ryad. |