As the lonely boatman trudges along the Volga Yearning for the Elysian fields The Lord shakes his fist at him from on high But it's funny, that's it's full of cocaine And downstream, there's the Golden Horde And upstream debutantes look on from the bank Oh the Cup of Wrath—living water Set free my blood, and azure snows. As the winter subdued us with iron and ice, Subjected us, but was turned back by Spring As the snow begins to thaw—Oh what then? And as the ice breaks up—what will happen to me? And whether the Volga bursts its banks, or the Great Flood comes, Or the Lord is simply wiping us off the face on the Earth, It makes no difference to me—I'm almost ready, Ready to sing to you from beneath the dark waves And from beneath the dark waves comes the ringing of bells From beneath the ancient wall a dazzling finch flies Absolve me of my sins by the first brush on your wing Absolve me of my sins, Oh why will you not speak? Burn, you gold-covered Seraph Burn, spurning shame, like a guiding star I do not care—I have all that was once mine And there is no other path than the one you light. So that's how our life goes—in Secam or in Pal Desolation in the field, or think of the Saviour I went out to see where it all began But I just got drunk and collapsed—that's all there is to say; So the ravens are silent, as the debutantes wail like the she-wolf of Tambov or the Fair Sister. Either the saving fast, or the saving poison but hear as I knock—and open the door! So count us as Angels, or count us as beasts Only open your mouth—I can't cope without fire; And, wherever I went, I knocked at every door O Lord my God, have mercy on me!
Another quick job, but at least that's the whole Russian album translated. If I have time, I will go back to them, and try to make these three songs singable, but that is unlikely to happen for a while.