Тщетно шарит рука по бедру, Ищет мой верный...

In vain fumbles a hand on his hip
Looking for my faithful blaster.

I look through the glass
And, as always, ofigueyu -
Instead of stars and planets
The IKEA advertising is on.

I’m sitting sad on
On their plywood stool.
This is not a time for utopia
On the conquest of the universe.

I understand everything: Stalin,
Repression, five-year plans ...
But why did we replace Space
On plywood stools?