An open-air cinema
On the banks of Lake Baikal
The hero speaks in Buryat
The dress of the heroine rises
Above a bed of blue flowers
The ancient district of Aginsk
The pages of a revolutionary book
Macerate in a golden puddle
Gorbachev’s breath
In the neck of the spectators
It is an open-air cinema
On the banks of Lake Baikal,
The Trans-Siberian Railway shelters the fruity dreams
Of a bee and a plate of marmalade
A sound of wings, the flight of a bird,
Above the Selenga delta,
The grey-blue wolf has invited itself on the banks of the Baikal
The dense clouds choke the summer sky
We play a popular film
The hero, machete in hand, on the mountain
The arms raised to the address of the Gods
The grey-blue wolf invited himself on the banks of Baikal
The apricot trees are in bloom
The Trans-Siberian Railway shelters the winged sighs
Of a fly and a glass of milk
The quivering of the water, the black forest,
A sunbeam has fertilized the earth
Your black eyes, the immense sky,
And before the screen stretched between us,
The people of Baikal are watching a film