Mike Naumenko, “Summer (A Song for Tsoi)”

 


Mike Naumenko, “Summer (A Song for Tsoi)” (1982)

Summer!
I’m sizzled like a burger.
I got time, but no money,
But I don’t care.

Summer!
I bought myself a paper.
I got a paper, but no beer.
And I’m going to look for one.

Summer!
There’s a jam session today at the Lensovet.
There will be this, and there will be that.
Should I go there?

Summer!
All the rowdies wear brass knuckles,
They must have a vendetta.
However, this is rubbish. Yes, yes, yes!

Summer!
There is no escape from mosquitoes,
And in the stores there is no DEET.
We hold donors in high esteem.

Summer!
It will be the death of me.
Quick, my carriage, my carriage!
However, kvass will also do.

Summer!
My pants are worn shiny like a coin.
A cigarette is smoking in my mouth.
I’m going for a swim in the pond.

Summer!
Recently I heard somewhere
That a comet was coming
And that then we would all die, all die.

Source of original lyrics in Russian. “Summer” was released on the album Mike: LV (1982),  which you can enjoy in its entirety for free on Spotify. The video, above, features photographs by the great Petersburg underground photographer Boris Smelov. Photo and translation by the Russian Reader

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Mama Anarchy

 

Kino, “Mother Anarchy”

A soldier was walking home down the street and saw these guys.
“Who’s your mama, guys?” the soldier asked the guys.

Refrain
Mama is anarchy, papa’s a glass of port wine.
Mama is anarchy, papa’s a glass of port wine.

portvein

The once-ubiquitous Port 777 should not be confused with its distant Portuguese cousin. In quality and flavor, it bears more of a resemblance to Mad Dog 20/20.

All of them wore leather jackets, all of them were small,
The soldier wanted to walk on by, but it wasn’t easy.

Refrain
Mama is anarchy, papa’s a glass of port wine.
Mama is anarchy, papa’s a glass of port wine.

Mama is anarchy, papa’s a glass of port wine.
Mama is anarchy, papa’s a glass of port wine.

The boys played quite a fun joke on the soldier.
They painted him red and blue, and forced him to use foul language.

Refrain
Mama is anarchy, papa’s a glass of port wine.
Mama is anarchy, papa’s a glass of port wine.
Mama is anarchy, papa’s a glass of port wine.
Mama is anarchy, papa’s a glass of port wine.

Original lyrics courtesy of gl5.ru. Image courtesy of Soviet Visuals. Translated by the Russian Reader

Boshetunmai

 

Boshetunmai
If you ran away when you were fifteen,
It’s hard to understand the guy who went to a good school.
And if you’ve got a firm plan for your life,
Then you’re unlikely to think about anything else.

We drink tea in old apartments.
We wait for summer in old apartments,
In old apartments where there is light,
Gas, telephone, hot water,
Radio, parquet floor,
Separate toilet, brick walls.
One family, two families, three families.
Lots of closet space,
Not interested in first or last floors,
Close to the subway, downtown, downtown.

Everyone says we’re together.
Everyone says it, but few people know where.
A strange smoke comes from our pipes.
Stop! Danger zone! Brain at work!
Boshetunmai, boshetunmai, boshetunmai . . .

 

Thanks to Comrade Igor R. for the heads-up on the video.