Lyrics О.Черненко, сл. Ю.Нестеренко - Московия
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...А родиться бы мог в Новегороде или во Пскове я,
На ином рубеже, при ином повороте судьбы,
И вести новгородскую армию к стенам Московии,
Где бесчестье в чести, где предателей славят рабы.
Где плюгавый упырь, плешь прикрывши татарскою шапкою,
Зло пирует в Кремле, без вина душегубствами пьян,
Где герой палачу салютует кровавой культяпкою,
И князья жирнобрюхие лижут монарший сафьян,
Где раздавлена вольность ударом кровавого молота,
Где оболгано все, что не вышло отнять и украсть,
Где Иван Калита прятал в погреб иудино золото,
Где пред властью трясутся одни, а другие - за власть.
С четырех бы сторон подойдя к окаянному городу,
Створки Спасских ворот мы бы вскрыли варяжским мечом,
И кремлевских бояр из палат потащили за бороду,
Да швырнули б со стен вместе с их азиатским бичом.
И навек бы развеяться тяжкому, душному мороку!
Воля, честь и права - снова были б не просто слова...
В самых жутких мечтах никакому заморскому ворогу
Не содеять того, что ты сделала с Русью, Москва!
Серость в мыслях и лицах, наследственное косоглазие
Да сутулые спины, безропотно ждущие плеть,
Сквозь лохмотья Европы бесстыдно таращится Азия
И в округлых обводах церквей проступает мечеть.
Да, Москва, не сыскать ни в Европе таких, ни в Америке!
В профиль - камера пыток, анфас - площадной балаган,
Из похмелья - в запой, вечный пафос кабацкой истерики,
Поцелуй с мордобоем, да деньги под ноги цыган.
Ой ты, каменный спрут с краснозвездною шапкой на темечке!
Все твои типажи перемешаны в нашей беде:
Толстомясая бабища, на пол плюющая семечки,
Косорылый опричник с засохшей соплей в бороде...
Со стрельцами царей, да с гэбульниками пустоглазыми,
Год от года кряхтя, но крепя упыриную рать,
Город Мутной Воды расползался вокруг метастазами,
Пол-Европы подмял, и весь мир собирался сожрать!
Но бодливой корове рога обломала история,
И гнилую империю явственно тянет ко дну.
Нет, Московия - вовсе не Русь! Это - лишь территория,
Где кремлевские ханы держали народы в плену.
Где родился - не главное. Главное - мыслить толковее,
И воскреснет свобода, и снова сплотятся ряды,
Чтоб вонзить европейскую сталь прямо в сердце Московии -
В азиатское сердце проклятой Московской Орды!
Нечисть пятится прочь, коль назвать ее истинным именем,
И былыми победами зря утешается враг -
Главный бой впереди. Свежий западный ветер над Ильменем
Наполняет нам крылья. И тает клубящийся мрак.
... And could have been born in Novodegorod or in Pskov, I,
On another line, with a different turn of fate,
And to lead the Novgorod army to the walls of Muscovy,
Where is dishonor in honor, where traitors are praised by slaves.
Where a plucky ghoul, baldness covering the Tartar hat,
Evil is feasting in the Kremlin, without guilt drinking,
Where the hero hangs the executioner bloody stump,
And the princes of the fat-belly lick monarchy morocco,
Where the freedom of a bloody hammer is crushed,
Where everything that has failed to be taken away and stolen is deported,
Where Ivan Kalita hid gold in a cellar of Judas,
Where one is shaking before power, and others - for power.
From four sides, approaching the cursed city,
We would open the doors of the Spassky Gate with the Varangian sword,
And the Kremlin boyars from the chambers were dragged by the beard,
Yes, they were thrown from the walls along with their Asian scourge.
And forever to disperse a heavy, stuffy trouble!
Will, honor and rights - again were not just words ...
In the most eerie dreams no overseas foe
Do not do what you did to Russia, Moscow!
Gray in thoughts and faces, hereditary strabismus
Yes stooped backs, resignedly waiting for the whip,
Through the rags of Europe shamelessly staring Asia
And in the rounded outlines of churches the mosque appears.
Yes, Moscow, can not be found in Europe either, or in America!
In the profile there is a torture chamber, full face - an area booth,
From a hangover - in a drinking-bout, the eternal pathos of taverns,
A kiss with a massacre, and money under the feet of gypsies.
Oh, you, a stone octopus with a red star cap on a stick!
All your types are mixed in our trouble:
A thick-haired woman, on the floor spitting sunflower seeds,
Cowbitten oprichnik with a withered snot in his beard ...
With the streltsy of kings, and with the geboumists empty-eyed,
Year after year, groaning, but holding on to the vampire's army,
The city of Mute Water sprawled around metastases,
Paul-Europe crushed, and the whole world was going to eat!
But the story of the cow horns,
And the rotten empire is clearly drawn to the bottom.
No, Muscovy - not Russia at all! It is only a territory,
Where the Kremlin khans held the people in captivity.
Where was born - not the point. The main thing is to think more intelligently,
And freedom will rise again, and ranks will rally again,
To plunge the European steel directly into the heart of Muscovy -
In the Asian heart of the accursed Moscow Horde!
The evil sprites away, if you call it a true name,
And by former victories the enemy is consoled in vain -
The main battle is ahead. Fresh west wind over Ilmen
Fills our wings. And melting gloom melts.
On another line, with a different turn of fate,
And to lead the Novgorod army to the walls of Muscovy,
Where is dishonor in honor, where traitors are praised by slaves.
Where a plucky ghoul, baldness covering the Tartar hat,
Evil is feasting in the Kremlin, without guilt drinking,
Where the hero hangs the executioner bloody stump,
And the princes of the fat-belly lick monarchy morocco,
Where the freedom of a bloody hammer is crushed,
Where everything that has failed to be taken away and stolen is deported,
Where Ivan Kalita hid gold in a cellar of Judas,
Where one is shaking before power, and others - for power.
From four sides, approaching the cursed city,
We would open the doors of the Spassky Gate with the Varangian sword,
And the Kremlin boyars from the chambers were dragged by the beard,
Yes, they were thrown from the walls along with their Asian scourge.
And forever to disperse a heavy, stuffy trouble!
Will, honor and rights - again were not just words ...
In the most eerie dreams no overseas foe
Do not do what you did to Russia, Moscow!
Gray in thoughts and faces, hereditary strabismus
Yes stooped backs, resignedly waiting for the whip,
Through the rags of Europe shamelessly staring Asia
And in the rounded outlines of churches the mosque appears.
Yes, Moscow, can not be found in Europe either, or in America!
In the profile there is a torture chamber, full face - an area booth,
From a hangover - in a drinking-bout, the eternal pathos of taverns,
A kiss with a massacre, and money under the feet of gypsies.
Oh, you, a stone octopus with a red star cap on a stick!
All your types are mixed in our trouble:
A thick-haired woman, on the floor spitting sunflower seeds,
Cowbitten oprichnik with a withered snot in his beard ...
With the streltsy of kings, and with the geboumists empty-eyed,
Year after year, groaning, but holding on to the vampire's army,
The city of Mute Water sprawled around metastases,
Paul-Europe crushed, and the whole world was going to eat!
But the story of the cow horns,
And the rotten empire is clearly drawn to the bottom.
No, Muscovy - not Russia at all! It is only a territory,
Where the Kremlin khans held the people in captivity.
Where was born - not the point. The main thing is to think more intelligently,
And freedom will rise again, and ranks will rally again,
To plunge the European steel directly into the heart of Muscovy -
In the Asian heart of the accursed Moscow Horde!
The evil sprites away, if you call it a true name,
And by former victories the enemy is consoled in vain -
The main battle is ahead. Fresh west wind over Ilmen
Fills our wings. And melting gloom melts.