From Kalinin into Tver (BG)
I entered here with the help of the door
I came here with the help of the feet
I've come to once again admire
With perfection of railways
Even it's strange to think that earlier
Each walked as wanted – and now
The steam locomotive like messiah carries us forward
On the way from Kalinin into Tver
The hostess in the train is simple like Gioconda
And her drink is sweeter than honey
And she is responsible for the quality of sleepers
And that nobody will never die
Between us – I knew her before,
Beside her was resting a quiet beast
And now she spreads more tender than a fluff
Machinist chops a backhand Vivaldi
And music flies between the trees
In blue with gold a tender instead of coal –
Souls of Turgenev's maidens
In a framework of hundred poods of cast iron
God's chosen (if you want – check up)
This train is flying like apostolic rank
On the way from Kalinin into Tver
Don't look that my speech is slurred
And I'm not authentically dressed –
I have come to make nicely
And else to observe my vow
If all is well, so and God is with it
But I alone know how to open the door
If you'll ask yourself – for what horseradish are we flying
On the way from Kalinin into Tver
I entered here with the help of the door
I came here with the help of the feet
I've come to once again admire
With perfection of railways
Even it's strange to think that earlier
Each walked as wanted – and now
The steam locomotive like messiah carries us forward
On the way from Kalinin into Tver
The hostess in the train is simple like Gioconda
And her drink is sweeter than honey
And she is responsible for the quality of sleepers
And that nobody will never die
Between us – I knew her before,
Beside her was resting a quiet beast
And now she spreads more tender than a fluff
Machinist chops a backhand Vivaldi
And music flies between the trees
In blue with gold a tender instead of coal –
Souls of Turgenev's maidens
In a framework of hundred poods of cast iron
God's chosen (if you want – check up)
This train is flying like apostolic rank
On the way from Kalinin into Tver
Don't look that my speech is slurred
And I'm not authentically dressed –
I have come to make nicely
And else to observe my vow
If all is well, so and God is with it
But I alone know how to open the door
If you'll ask yourself – for what horseradish are we flying
On the way from Kalinin into Tver