Artwork by Oksana Hawrylak, includes illustrated booklet of song translations
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(Russia)
moorka
Ночью было тихо, только ветер свищет
А в малине собрался совет
Все они бандиты, воры, хулиганы
Выбирают свой авторитет
Речь держала баба, звали её Мурка
Девица сияла красотой
Воры её знали, воры ей гордились
Она вела всю шайку за собой
Раз пошли на дело, выпить захотелось
Мы зашли в шикарный ресторан
Там она сидела с агентом из МУРа
У неё под курткой был наган
Чтоб не шухериться, мы решили смыться
Но за это Мурке отомстить
Одному из урок в кожаной тужурке
Мы сказали: "Слушай, Юра, Мурку надо вбить!"
Юрка в ресторане — взял напился пьяным
Начал Мурку в переулке брать
Одному из МУРа в кожаной тужурке
Поручил он Мурку доганять
"Ну, здравствуй, моя Мурка, здравствуй дорогая,
Здравствуй, моя Мурка, и прощай...
Ты зашухерила нашу всю малину
И за это, падла, получай!"
Вынул Сашка финку, зверски улыбнулся
Заблистали карие глаза...
И вонзил он финку прямо в сердце Мурки...
Мурочка, не встанешь никогда!
Ну, что лежишь ты, Мурка, на краю дороги
Гробовая крышка над тобой
Больше ты не встанешь, шухер не нагонишь
И легавый плачет над тобой
---
It was a quiet evening
Only the wind was whistling
The council met in their usual hangout
All of them-- bandits, thieves, hooligans
Chose who will be their authority.
Some broad took the floor
They called her Murka
This chick was beaming with beauty
The thieves knew her, the thieves were proud of her
She had the whole gang wrapped around her finger.
Once we were out on the job
We got an itch for a drink
We popped in to a classy restaurant
There she was, sitting with an MCID agent (Moscow Criminal Investigation Department)
Under her coat, she had a gun.
We didn't want any trouble,
so we decided to beat it,
But Murka would pay for this!
To one of the leather peacoat-ed agents, we said:
"Listen, Yura! Murka's needs a beating."
At the restaurant,
Yura drank himself into a stupor
And led Murka into the alleyway
And assigned another one of the leather peacoat-ed agents
To chase Murka down.
"Well, hello, my Murka,
Well, hello, dearest!
Hello, my Murka and farewell...
You screwed up our whole life
And for that, bitch, you get the bullet!"
Sasha pulled out a knife
Smiled a beastly smile
His brown eyes sparkled
And he sank the knife right into Murka's heart
"My little Murka, you'll never get up again!"
Why are you lying there, Murka,
On the side of the road?
The lid of the coffin above you
You'll never stand again, never lift the whistle to your lips
And the nark is crying over you.
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