Текст песни Михаил Шуфутинский - Нескучный сад

From the dark forest far
Where the suburbs shrug their shoulders,
The Moscow River is in no hurry to become the Volga,
On the verge of Novodevichy sadness.
In the swampy village of Luzhniki
The Novodevichy nuns were fed.
As a result, Luzhnikovs, men,
They took women for the noble manners.

Not inferior to deciduous forests,
Two weeks before the veil,
Truly good Neskuchny garden,
In a frantic, crimson bedspread.
The Moscow River is a little foggy
Saddled by dexterous bridges.
Life annuity for a Muscovite -
To master boring places.

In Neskuchny, no one accepts that there is no God,
There is no suspicion that there is no God.
There miraculously preserved cornet
Smolny student walks.
And the Smolyanka likes the old man
As before, by golly God.
And the wind leaves the river
With the madness of the lousy Van Gogh.

In Neskuchny, according to the Venusian court,
Lovers never dare to miss.
For everything that was done in the garden in the summer,
The tree became ashamed - reddened.
Boring does not miss along the river,
In vain the magpies fool.
Neskuchny garden could not pass
In the Central Park of dubious culture.