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Land in the porthole, land in the porthole
The ground in the window is visible ...
And the Wing's wedding, and the Wing's wedding,
The winged always celebrate everything.

Seryoga on Kanatik, Tomatik on Valerenka -
They are already married to them.
So few of us are left, so few of us are left,
So few of us are single.

And we do not dream of the roar of our Noooooh,
Not the shame of the great Night.
And we dream of water, water, water.
Nice and strong water.

In the morning they all got up, in the morning they all got up
Everyone is trying to remember what, when.
The head hurts desperately, and their legs are reeling,
The desperate Winged ones stand up.
What to take again and celebrate, what to take and celebrate again
We need to get some booze.
And again we will empty, and again we will empty
Our supplies are alcoholic.

And we dream not of the facepalm of our Night.
Not Midnight that burned itself.
And we dream of grass, grass in our pockets.
Pink, red dope