"My Gypsy Song" - Vladimir Vysotski

A dream, yellow flames, and I say hoarsely in my sleep:
'Wait, wait, morning will be wiser'
But in the morning everything is still wrong,
There is none of that joy
You're either smoking on an empty stomach
Or having a drink for your hangover
And once, and again, and again and again...
And again, and again

In the roadhouses, a green bottle and white napkins
A paradise for beggars and jesters
I feel like a bird in a cage
In the church there is a stench and half-light
The deacons are burning incense
No, in the church nothing is right either
Nothing is as it should be
And once, and again, and again and again...
Nothing is as it should be

I rush up the mountain
So that nothing should happen
Atop the mountain stands an alder
And at the foot of the mountain a cherry tree
If only the slope were twined with ivy
It would be a joy to me
Or if only there were something else
But nothing is as it should be
And once, and again, and again and again...
Nothing is as it should be

Then I walk through the field, down the river
A mass of light, there is no God
Cornflowers in the bare field
And a distant road
Down that road, a thick forest
With witches
And at the end of that road
Axes in an executioner's stump

Somewhere horses are marching in step
Reluctantly and fluidly
Down the road nothing is right
And in the end, as ever
Neither the church, nor the inn
Nothing is holy
No my friends, nothing is as it should be
Nothing is as it should be, my friends
And again, and again, and again and again...
Nothing is as it should be, my friends