This state has run wild from snowdrifts and frosts
In inconsistency and licentiousness
In mind-blowing screech
In the burdens of pre-Christmas anticipation
I look out for a phrase that matches the rhythm patterns
Nothing to fall into place
Everything turns and twists
In an ugly pandemonium

Dashing downstairs
Ridiculously hasty
Slightly inebriated
Swaying on the waves
Don’t quite understand what’s going on
Who’s taken my mind away
Gonna burn clay pots
Since it’s funnier than burning myself
You admire the portrait of the chieftain!
Let his confident smile invigorate you
Screams, jokes
No
Silence (as it usually happens in pitch-black)
Planning takes place only in the north
In the south, they got total freedom
And we are somewhere in the middle
We don’t fancy planning
Yet we make plans diligently
Since we know it has to be rewarded
Since rewards do take place
Go try to find this place
Go to the dense forests
You go the right way,
Comrades!