Текст песни Саша Прохоров - Холодное лето 53-го

That cold summer of 1953
Where we are from different sides of the universe,
The sun never met us treacherously.
His brow flaked with nuclear foam.
The limestone crumbled and we melted
Snow women from May to August,
And the birds flew in a rancorous flock to
What is left of us to no one.
Bird cherry blossoms in your permafrost
The dead father was leaving the dream.
From the shroud of the sky they shot without a miss
What we were famous for on Mondays.
Rats, bared their teeth, died in barns,
Filled with the scent of cereals and sulfur
Probably we were buried in pairs
Relying on the second and the first.
That long summer fifty-third
Where nobody got anything
Nobody answered anyone.
We understood everything ourselves - we dreamed of OLD AGE.