Анатолий Багрицкий и Дмитрий Максимачёв - Игра в города
текст песни

The city will come up with care
So that from Sunday to Saturday
I lived like an ordinary jacket.
I got it all morning, and in the evening, awake
On the escalator, as on the attraction,
He looked at the faces of passing people.
I hate this entertainment
I look point blank, and I don’t see a damn thing.
Moreover, himself, like a mannequin,
I stand not visible by anyone.
Drinking provincial backyards,
Where even the rain has a taste of chlorine.
Looks like the sky, overturned
Above the cursed ocean of persons,
General rot for the sake of
Bends inclement weather here.
Putting on the end of the young years,
My fate plays in cities.

Famous clocks flickered.
Against the background of a wooden pediment,
With a face like a rickety facade
Ancient merchant house,
I stand one in an evening clock
A tired gaze to Balyasin.
Bridges, like inverted sledges,
Shine with cast -iron runners of the railing.
Touching with shed hair
Land,
The seventh sky licks balustrades.
Touching the clouds,
Trees along the coastal fence,
As if the ballerina at the machine
Froze in anticipation of the team
Pl.
The air is emasculated and sparse,
At the threshold there is water.
This city is filled with the same
Than all the cities are filled.
My homeland is not the city of Rostov,
My homeland is my desk.