Translation of the song lyrics Medicine - Miyagi & Andy Panda

Medicine (original)

Она искала меня повсеместно
Зыбучая тоска — окраина тёмного, дикого леса
Тут, не по правилам города
Ноты мешали нащупывать зарево
Уповали лишь на интересы
Замыленные взгляды пренебрегали тобою
Те серенады, что были cпеты, убитые горем
В мире заляпанной правды cулили сущий ад
И как бы там не было —
Кто-то по-любому бывает этому рад

Небрежная мимика, запудренная голова
Слепого человека привела сюда
Остановить это безумие
По-видимому — не было желания никогда
Страшный сон пацифиста
Злобный министр замыкал провода
Wow-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wow
Wow-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wow

I'm ready to give some man medicine, bomboclaats
I feel everything, fuck the cops
And the glocks on the triggers
Fuck this wa-a-a-a-a-ar
I'm ready to give some man medicine, bomboclaats
I feel everything, fuck the cops
And the glocks on the triggers
Fuck this wa-a-a-a-a-ar

Медленно тлеет
Я вижу, как медленно тлеет Кассандра
Пускай она греет
Пускай она лечит и приходит обратно
Медленно тлеет, я вижу как
Медленно тлеет Кассандра
Пускай она греет, пускай она лечит
И приходит обратно
Нет, это и не crush-test
Нет никакой вражды, мы же не east to west
На**й эти бифы и истерики
Нет, но — на**й эти бифы и истерики
Болит о том, что творится (все встали с краю)
Для них есть выход — смириться (я не выбираю)
Всё — моментально, без лишних эмоций
В суете, в ножнах сложно
Концепция грузит, но всё уже в прошлом

I'm ready to give some man medicine, bomboclaats
I feel everything, fuck the cops
And the glocks on the triggers
Fuck this wa-a-a-a-a-ar
I'm ready to give some man medicine, bomboclaats
I feel everything, fuck the cops
And the glocks on the triggers
Fuck this wa-a-a-a-a-ar
I'm ready to give some man medicine, bomboclaats
I feel everything, fuck the cops
And the glocks on the triggers
Fuck this wa-a-a-a-a-ar
I'm ready to give some man medicine, bomboclaats
I feel everything, fuck the cops
And the glocks on the triggers
Fuck this wa-a-a-a-a-ar

Medicine (translation)

She traced my shadow through every quarter of earth,
A quagmire of longing—the brink where the wildwood looms,
Here, all order is broken, not a city’s code abides,
Music unsettled the hand that would grope for the dawn,
Trust was spent on the coin of advantage alone,
Wearied eyes, glazed over, dismissed your presence,
Those serenades, wrung by sorrow, fell slain in their wailing,
In a world besmirched by truth, a living hell was ordained,
Be it as fate may decree—
There is always a soul rejoicing amid the pyre,

A careless grimace, the mind with powder veiled,
She led a blind man to this threshold,
To halt this madness—
Seemed never a wish, nor a moment’s intent,
A pacifist’s horror-dream,
A baleful minister fused the circuits to sparks,
Wow—wo—wo—wo—wo—wo—wo—wow
Wow—wo—wo—wo—wo—wo—wow

I stand, a draught for ailing men in hand, bomboclaats,
I feel the whole world’s ache—damn the watchmen,
And the black iron, taut-fingered, quick to thunder,
To hell with this war—drawn out as a howl
I stand, a draught for ailing men in hand, bomboclaats,
I feel the whole world’s ache—damn the watchmen,
And the black iron, taut-fingered, quick to thunder,
To hell with this war—drawn out as a howl

It smolders slow—
I see Cassandra herself, slow-embered,
Let her lend her warmth,
Let her heal, and circle again to this place,
It smolders slow—so I witness,
Cassandra in her slow-consuming glow,
Let her warm, let her mend,
And let her return once more,
No, this is no trial by ruin,
No, we know no enmity, we are not east and west,
Curse these feuds, these shrill declamations—
No, yet still—curse these feuds, these shrill declamations—
It aches, what is wrought here (all gathered at the edge),
For them there is escape—acquiescence (I do not choose it),
All comes in an instant, stripped of excess feeling,
In the haste, within sheaths, the way is thorned,
Theory weighs on the mind, yet the past is uncoiled,

I stand, a draught for ailing men in hand, bomboclaats,
I feel the whole world’s ache—damn the watchmen,
And the black iron, taut-fingered, quick to thunder,
To hell with this war—drawn out as a howl
I stand, a draught for ailing men in hand, bomboclaats,
I feel the whole world’s ache—damn the watchmen,
And the black iron, taut-fingered, quick to thunder,
To hell with this war—drawn out as a howl
I stand, a draught for ailing men in hand, bomboclaats,
I feel the whole world’s ache—damn the watchmen,
And the black iron, taut-fingered, quick to thunder,
To hell with this war—drawn out as a howl
I stand, a draught for ailing men in hand, bomboclaats,
I feel the whole world’s ache—damn the watchmen,
And the black iron, taut-fingered, quick to thunder,
To hell with this war—drawn out as a howl