Аквариум - В древнерусской тоске
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Аквариум - В древнерусской тоске - оригинальный текст песни, перевод, видео
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Куда ты, тройка, мчишься, куда ты держишь путь?
Ямщик опять нажрался водки или просто лег вздремнуть,
Колеса сдадены в музей, музей весь вынесли вон,
В каждом доме раздается то ли песня, то ли стон,
Как предсказано святыми, все висит на волоске,
Я гляжу на это дело в древнерусской тоске...
На поле древней битвы нет ни копий ни костей,
Они пошли на сувениры для туристов и гостей,
Добрыня плюнул на Россию и в Милане чинит газ,
Алеша, даром что Попович, продал весь иконостас.
Один Илья пугает девок, скача в одном носке,
И я гляжу на это дело в древнерусской тоске...
У Ярославны дело плохо, ей некогда рыдать,
Она в конторе с полседьмого, у ней брифинг ровно в пять,
А все бояре на "Тойотах" издают "PlayBoy" и "Vogue",
Продав леса и нефть на запад, "СС-20" - на Восток.
Князь Владимир, чертыхаясь, рулит в море на доске,
Я гляжу на это дело в древнерусской тоске...
У стен монастыря опять большой переполох,
По мелкой речке к ним приплыл четырнадцатирукий бог.
Монахи с матом машут кольями, бегут его спасти,
А бог глядит, что дело плохо, и кричит: "Пусти, пусти!"
Настоятель в женском платье так и скачет на песке,
Я гляжу на это дело в древнерусской тоске...
А над удолбанной Москвою в небо лезут леса,
Турки строят муляжи Святой Руси за полчаса,
А у хранителей святыни палец пляшет на курке,
Знак червонца проступает вместо лика на доске,
"Харе Кришна" ходят строем по Арбату и Тверской,
Я боюсь, что сыт по горло древнерусской тоской...
Where are you, Troika, rush, where do you keep the way?
The rod got drunk vodka again or just lay down,
The wheels are surrendered to the museum, the museum was all carried out,
In each house, whether the song is heard, or a moan,
As predicted saints, everything hangs on the hair,
I look at this thing in ancient Russian longing ...
There are no copies nor bones on the field of an ancient battle
They went to souvenirs for tourists and guests,
Dobrynya spat on Russia and in Milan she chinit gas,
Alesha, nothing that Popovich, sold the whole iconostasis.
One Ilya scares girls, jumping in one sock,
And I look at this thing in ancient Russian longing ...
Yaroslavna is a bad thing, she has no time to cry
She is in the office with half a seed, she has a briefing exactly five,
And all the boyars on the "Toyota" publish "Playboy" and "Vogue",
Soldering Forest and Oil to West, "SS-20" - east.
Prince Vladimir, though, taxis in the sea on the board,
I look at this thing in ancient Russian longing ...
At the walls of the monastery again a big stir,
According to the small river, the fourteenthist god sailed to them.
Monks with Mat Masut by stoles, flee him to save,
And God looks that it's bad, and shouts: "Let me, let them!"
The abbot in the women's dress and jumps on the sand,
I look at this thing in ancient Russian longing ...
And over the Udolbannaya Moscow in the sky climb the forest,
Turks are building the universities of Saint Rus for half an hour,
And the keepers of the shrine finger dancing on the jurka,
Chervonz sign appears instead of face on blackboard,
"Hare Krishna" go build on Arbat and Tverskaya,
I'm afraid you felt on the throat of ancient Russian longing ...
The rod got drunk vodka again or just lay down,
The wheels are surrendered to the museum, the museum was all carried out,
In each house, whether the song is heard, or a moan,
As predicted saints, everything hangs on the hair,
I look at this thing in ancient Russian longing ...
There are no copies nor bones on the field of an ancient battle
They went to souvenirs for tourists and guests,
Dobrynya spat on Russia and in Milan she chinit gas,
Alesha, nothing that Popovich, sold the whole iconostasis.
One Ilya scares girls, jumping in one sock,
And I look at this thing in ancient Russian longing ...
Yaroslavna is a bad thing, she has no time to cry
She is in the office with half a seed, she has a briefing exactly five,
And all the boyars on the "Toyota" publish "Playboy" and "Vogue",
Soldering Forest and Oil to West, "SS-20" - east.
Prince Vladimir, though, taxis in the sea on the board,
I look at this thing in ancient Russian longing ...
At the walls of the monastery again a big stir,
According to the small river, the fourteenthist god sailed to them.
Monks with Mat Masut by stoles, flee him to save,
And God looks that it's bad, and shouts: "Let me, let them!"
The abbot in the women's dress and jumps on the sand,
I look at this thing in ancient Russian longing ...
And over the Udolbannaya Moscow in the sky climb the forest,
Turks are building the universities of Saint Rus for half an hour,
And the keepers of the shrine finger dancing on the jurka,
Chervonz sign appears instead of face on blackboard,
"Hare Krishna" go build on Arbat and Tverskaya,
I'm afraid you felt on the throat of ancient Russian longing ...
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