Текст песни Григорий Данской - Зимний футбол

The ball is black and white, divisible by three people,
at dusk early barely recognizing each other.
Falling in the snow, a ball looks like spinning coal,
falling into the sky, it looks like soaring snow.

The little three players don't care
that the rest of the figures left the field,
that black pawns and white ponies roam
in the gray offside, like twilight beyond the side.

They don’t see how the field has gone from under the feet,
as the air rose and enveloped itself.
They play, like in chess, a checkered casing -
the most gambling and maybe the main player.

Short-lived sports quarrels, but here
it smells worse than melting snow.
The ball is spinning, and the obedient are spinning next
two kings and a cruel but small queen.

                                  1996