I don't need a reward. Have no use for a crown I don't need lips of witches, to finish the round Could I just enjoy springtime and life free of lies? Oh, Samara, my sister… How in Garden of Eden, evil herds wander free Be that treachery-ambush or saint water for me Bleeding as a white swan, cutting heart in full swing And Vladimir is uphill, and Pokrov's downhill. Sun is hitting the clouds above me in the sky I am probably lucky that I am still alive And a bird on the river cries and waits for her beau And around are grey walls and an eternal bore Why am I drunk like seraph with a paper-made pipe? Clean and tidy on black, dull and speckled on white And above flies the pilot, so immersed in his gloom Oh, Samara, my sister. Kostroma mon amour I could lead this life sober, I could live life of ease. But my soul is begging to be released. Come hell or high water – shoo away the dark mood Oh, Samara, my sister. Kostroma mon amour I have no use for crown. I don’t want a reward What a shame to tail others to the realm of the Lord I could use a white wicket and a laced abat-jour Oh, Samara, my sister. Kostroma mon amourEdit
Well - this is just a first draft. Comments are welcome!