Mind the doors, please

           Suburban electric train will sing,

      And we’ll go, yes, we’ll go

           to Moscow suburbs with a ding.

               like in autumn crimson bright,

           like in winter pure white,

              like in summer and in spring

      demi-season fling!

      In the aisle ticket controllers roam,

           here are young and old,

      Musicians and trolls and all,

           all of them running home.

              like in autumn crimson bright,

           like in winter pure white,

              like in summer and in spring

      demi-season fling!

      We will rush, we will dash

           Into April far away,

      With no reason we will crush

           Into snowstorm where we stay.

              like in autumn crimson bright,

           like in winter pure white,

              like in summer and in spring

      demi-season fling!

      Cranes are flying, flying far,

           Time will give us one more hour at least,

      And you see a fairy town,

           Train is dashing

      Train is rushing,

      To the east.

              like in autumn crimson bright,

           like in winter pure white,

              like in summer and in spring

      demi-season fling!

      Everybody runs to Moscow, Moscow, dear

           In electric train and shout,

      «Have you taken carrots out?»

           «Yes, I have them clean and clear»

              like in autumn crimson bright,

           like in winter pure white,

              like in summer and in spring

      demi-seasonfling!

      Вчера, в день последний лета,

      У ручья в овраге

      Я видел конец света.

      Там, где сияет Лавра

      Золотом самоварным —

      Сергиево-Посадским.

      Овраг засадили безликим,

      У Лавры украли пейзаж —

      И вместо ажурной базилики

      Окна пустые, мусор, метраж.

      Может, это ненадолго?

      Может, это на полчаса?

      О, люди, откройте глаза!

      О, где же моя отрадная

      Лавра, церковь надвратная?

      Растёт гора отвратная!

      Вставай, страна огромная,

      Огромная страна!

      Last day of summer, yesterday,

      In the gully near the spring

      I saw a doomsday

      Near the laura that shines and sings,

      With gold fake but clear,

      Near Moscow, near.

      The gully has no scenery now,

      Laura seems so faceless and lonely.

      Instead of delicate basilica here grow

      Junk and empty windows only.

      Maybe it is not for long?

      Maybe for half an hour and it’s all?

      People, open your eyes, I call!

      Where are you now, laura,

      Will I see the church that I know?

      The mountains of junk still growing!

      Arise, the country, for more,

      Great country you are!

      Я спросил айтишника на досуге:

      «Скажи,