Kult - Marianna

At Marianna's, nuts with honey
At Marianna's, champagne on ice
At Marianna's, bloody lobster
Marianna’s got well-trained lips

Lingerie with flair
Golden panties with a zip
Teases the boys
But she's bored

But luckily, in her little castle
Among old armour, Azef’s letters
In the romantic police aura
Aunt Idalia the Antique watches over

She’ll bring her the heavens
She knows what the child needs
Soon she’ll hand her
A romance of barricades

Oh, how thrilling, oh, what a stir
You can laugh, you can cry
Soon forgetting pimples on your behind
And having straight legs instead of bent

Countless excitements
And all sorts of new gadgets
Executioner, victim
Che Guevara

And Aunt Idalia mixes hemlock
Pulls poisoned spears from the wall
A red little star, a portrait of the Tsar
Soon sends it to Marianna in a trunk

For the child is stifled by spleen
Let her have a bit of fun
Let her leap
Like the Nike of barricades

At Marianna's, books by Mao
A sickle and hammer, a trident with an arrow
A large shelf for the Father’s works
Agitator's notebooks

And in breaks between readings
She already knows how to have fun
Roaming wherever
There’s clamour of barricades

And Aunt Idalia scatters food for hens
Brutal methods aren’t her style
She naps on the porch with the scent of cherry blossoms
And dreams soon of modern society

And behind her, off to wet work
A tight brigade in firm ranks
The Army of the Barricades

Through Marianna, nocturnal emissions
Thankfully, there’s revolution
The rubbish is burning, the police are rushing
Now what with that baton, damn it?

Grab a pen
Bleakly
In the manifesto, describe the cop
Assaulting girls from the barricades

And Aunt Idalia chews her meal
One hundred lashes for Praxedes on her bare behind
Maciej to Siberia, Hryćko to prison
Gardens, chinchillas, rouge on her cheeks

A crucifix, peacefully aligned
A little photo on the dresser
A wild lady
The Nike of barricades

Oh, Marianna, drop your dress
Tomorrow morning, thirty will strike
Come with us, let's rent a toilet
We'll snap a neck, have ourselves a ball

And we'll show them
Because we know these problems
What arises
From the flames of barricades

Aunt Idalia can’t catch us
We’ll curse Aunt Idalia into a goat
Slip a barrel past the laissez-passer
A tiger in the tank, and off we go

In the sun’s shimmer
Leaving the world behind us
And the panic
Of the Barricade Era

The cop’s face, the army in jeeps
Politics, class, and cliques
Rallies in Ryki
Party, syndicate

Dialectics… and everything that stands in our way
Of lying peacefully in the sun, with hands on the breasts of girls
And watching cumulus clouds in white…
While the sky itself is blue