Гарик Сукачев, Знаю я есть края \ Igor Sukachev, Climes (subs by V. Chetin)

Know for sure, there are climes, May you go look around, try to find them. There’s such soil out there, there’s such grass out there, woods in those lands are like in no memory, chum, anywhere. In them climes, in lagoons, water’s pure holy dew, Stars like diamonds are glimmering and falling down in the mountains. I would leave for them climes, if I could book a ticket due there. And the ticket is worth just a song and a couple of coppers, but it cannot be found, but it cannot be booked, may you ask booking offices for it as hard as you can. Heard a passenger say he was going that way but, unfortunately, railway switch had been broken, And another related а story about a chance cab. I’ve long studied a great deal of both short and medium and distant trip time-tables, Only they are all wrong, both couchette and roomette; And there are always traveling tickets in various ports; Yet in all of them