| Alone again in a half-asleep bed,
|
| In the darkness of the night, only the sound of crazy hooves.
|
| Has long been on golden shoulder straps
|
| Parisian streets age-old dust.
|
| Chorus:
|
| Brilliant officers grow dim,
|
| As they say, God, give us today.
|
| No longer so refined manners -
|
| Only the bearing and honor remained.
|
| Only the bearing and honor remained.
|
| I am alive, my friend, calm and free,
|
| But I often began to have a strange dream:
|
| Takes you to the watering hole along the cornflowers
|
| The gray-haired batman of the horse beyond the horizon.
|
| Chorus:
|
| Autumn morning dog hunting.
|
| Greyhounds lay, reaching the cry.
|
| Thick fog descended on the swamps,
|
| Where the capercaillie are waiting for their grouse.
|
| Where the capercaillie are waiting for their grouse.
|
| Who are you and I here really?
|
| One question, and only one answer:
|
| Mon chere amie, we are here with you Michelle,
|
| There is no Fatherland and there are no patronymics either.
|
| There is no Fatherland and there are no patronymics either.
|
| Chorus:
|
| Do not get used to fighting to the first blood,
|
| When the clock strikes for the last time...
|
| But, gentlemen, how you want to shoot
|
| Among the birches of the middle lane.
|
| Among the birches of the middle lane. |