| The one-eyed, but pretty night filled up the sunset, | 
| Pulls hare soup from grandfather Mazai, | 
| Laying her completely pissed-off daughter on the floor from the potbelly stove, | 
| Having fastened a shotgun on the path, I crawl out. | 
| I will wander through the swamp, I will check the mushroom places, | 
| I will let my soul bask in the stars, | 
| Yes, in all conscience, we need to fix the grave of the cop, | 
| That in the spring scared me with a shot in the air. | 
| Wild boars and bears scurry in the state farm garden, | 
| The owl carries its swan song, | 
| Seeing me silent, he knows, bastard, when, never, I will fall, | 
| Well, yes, I'm not in a hurry, it's more interesting with him for now. | 
| In these skies I know how many moons are counted, | 
| A long time ago I put my hut on the edge, | 
| Treated myself like a fucking sorcerer | 
| Turned into shit, but I don't know how to go back. | 
| Here I'll sit, smoke, and go back, | 
| Encouraged-pleased with a sip of moonshine, | 
| Yes, I’ll take a look at the highway, mushroom pickers go there in the morning, | 
| Suddenly, and big boots have two more cartridges. | 
| Trouble with boots, since the spring it has completely worn out, | 
| If they had removed it themselves, then I would not have destroyed them in vain. |