Нация за меня Пьёт пиво Балтика, курит сигареты...

The nation is for me
Drinks beer Baltika, smokes Winston cigarettes,
Pure as a match girl
Sits on an oil pipe
Dangling legs
Without reading the prohibitions at gas stations,

Eats in Rostiks and McDonald's
Travels to Egypt and Turkey
Goes to offices
Receives benefits
Works in vegetable gardens
Steals budget money

Drives new cars bought on credit
Collected in Uzbekistan,
And on old cars stolen from Germany and Japan.
Trades Polish and Chinese junk
Sits in train stations and prisons
Teaches and heals
Shoots and rolls
Speaks and shows
Nonsense
Running fast past the mother-in-law's house

Kills and judges
Supervises and punishes
Breeds and multiplies
Buries, buries, buries
Gives birth a little

Writes in the yellow papers, calls the radio

Performs at Dom-2 and Comedy Club
Watching news on state channels

Serving in the Army
Fights in Chechnya
By call and contract
Smokes, injects and drinks
Bathes and tans
Designs and builds
Gives bribes; sits on the Internet;
Swears in kitchens

Takes to the streets with red flags
She takes to the streets with a swastika on her sleeve
Fights in the alleyways, rides with flashing lights
Presenting documents in a humiliating manner,
Strikes in the groin and strikes backhand
Cries and laughs, tells jokes,
Curses and approves
Like the old days
Doesn't plant a tree
Doesn't build a house
Doesn't raise a son

And if it seems to her that she does it,
So it only seems to her
Overexposed like an iris
Decays

It has long been hard to understand
Why does she need one-sixth of the land
Okay, one seventh,
Without the Baltics and Georgia,
Ukraine and Central Asia,
But we will not give up the rest of the Caucasus,
Why does she, for example, Siberia,
Where from one city to another
Population of 500 thousand inhabitants

You have to go 500 kilometers.
Ermak and Ekaterina
Fought for natural resources
Under the cover of Orthodoxy, this is understandable
Any historian of colonization will tell you that.
But are we, are we?
See your comrades
On weekend
For 300 km H shit question.

I write documents for the nation
Report line

How I flew with the Nazis on the same plane
Not in a dream and not bomb Stalingrad.
From Konigsberg (Kaliningrad) to Moscow.
With relatives, Russian fascists.

They had a meeting in Koenig
They are twenty-five years old, thirty
Dressed in Burberry and Lacoste
Mid-level managers
Little Russian burghers

Encrypted first
But behaved arrogantly
At the airport everyone was pushed aside
They got drunk on the plane
I thought: if we come to H
Seriously.

They didn't come up.
On the contrary, I learned
A lot of new:
That there was no Holocaust
And what Russian fascists are doing on the Internet
Stormy correspondence with Israelis.
They have the same goals:
National purity in every country.
If they win the election,
There will be general peace in the world.

Nation, you are ashamed to say, baby
I lost myself completely.
Already Moscow small employees
Forced to seek asylum
Not in the world of labor and capital,
And in the world of some dead alien clowns.

The nation salutes me
Rides the metro and minibuses
Goes to theaters and musicals
It's blown up and gassed
Every day they take hostage
And she doesn't seem to feel

Has fun and works, drinks and smokes
Eats and shits fights and loves
Crying on the shoulders of dear

I don't do any of this.
I write during the day, I write at night
I write in the morning, I write in the evening,
When I walk, smoke, eat, drink, dry
When I sleep

I make her meanings
That she could eat
If I ate letters

She also prays
That is, he goes to church
I pray too and go to church too
But it seems to me, not because of the nation.

What unites us?
Pushkin? He stands in the square
Under which the nation was blown up.
Lermontov? He fought in the Caucasus

In punitive squads
As they are fighting now.
Lenin? It lies in the Mausoleum
And he has not heard anything for a long time.
Gagarin? I beg of you:
These are my