Three stations - Moscow,
|
In the heart of the capital
|
Trains are leaving
|
Lanterns and platforms, conductors, wagons
|
They float away into the misty distance.
|
The city is stuck in traffic jams
|
And the convoys leave
|
Rails quietly, like strings, ring,
|
The semaphores are flashing, the trains are leaving
|
Parallel to the freeway lights.
|
The trains will run
|
Through plains, valleys and groves!
|
The route will be different
|
But they will return again to Komsomolskaya Square!
|
The route will be different
|
But they will return again to Komsomolskaya Square!
|
Outside the window flashes sunrises, sunsets,
|
And in the evening lights of the city,
|
Though faster by plane, but somehow
|
It is more pleasant and calmer to ride in trains.
|
Along the railways - vanity,
|
At the stations - the concentration of meetings and partings,
|
I remember the girl that saw me off,
|
Her shoulders are in the ring of my arms.
|
The trains will run
|
Through plains, valleys and groves!
|
The route will be different
|
But they will return again to Komsomolskaya Square!
|
The route will be different
|
But they will return again to Komsomolskaya Square!
|
Come back, friends!
|
The capital will again meet with domes and the smell of sleepers!
|
Come back, friends!
|
Let your bright faces not be touched by longing and sadness!
|
The trains will run
|
Through plains, valleys and groves!
|
The route will be different
|
But they will return again to Komsomolskaya Square!
|
The route will be different
|
But they will return again to Komsomolskaya Square!
|
The trains will run
|
Across the plains, valleys and groves!
|
Friends are leaving
|
But they will return again to Komsomolskaya Square!
|
Friends are leaving
|
But they will return again to Komsomolskaya Square!
|
Back to Komsomolskaya Square! |