Vladimir Vysotsky. My Gypsy Song.
We live in the dead emptiness, my dears,
If try to press, a dreadful stench will fly,
And we can’t get rid of the deadly fear
As with great shows as with feasts with wine.
Because of the obligatory oblations,
That our fathers praised so many times,
There is a seal on our generation —
We’re stripped of reason, memory and eyes.
The smell of blood, amusing many persons...