White snow, gray ice,
Upon the dry, cracked earth.
A quilt lies on top -
A city in the loop of the road.
Above the city, clouds float by,
Blocking the light of the skies.
Above the city, yellow smoke.
The city stands for two thousand years
Under the light of the star that we call the sun
For two thousand years there is war,
War for no particular cause.
War is in the hands of the young,
Medicine against wrinkled skin.
The blood, the red, red blood,
In an hour is simply earth,
In two it holds grass and flowers,
In three it is once more alive
And warmed by the rays of the star that we call the sun
And we know that it has always been so,
That those who are loved by fate
Are those who live by laws not our own,
Those who are doomed to die young
He can't remember the word "yes," the word "no,"
He can't remember the ranks or the names.
He is capable of reaching the stars,
Discounting that this is a dream
And fall down, singed by the star that we call the sun
Viktor Tsoi
