Translation of some Kino songs for an English speaking friend

The star called Sun -- Zvezda po Imeni Solntse -- Звезда по Имени Солнце

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=anURcEjDUbI

White snow, grey ice

On the cracked earth.

Like a patchwork quilt on her—

A city in the loop of the road.

And above the city, clouds float

Hiding the light of the sky

And above the city – yellow smoke

The city is two thousand years old

Spent under the light of the star

Called Sun.

And a war for two thousand years—

A war without much reason

Wars are a thing for the young,

A medicine against wrinkles.

Red, red blood

After an hour, it’s just earth

After two, it grows flowers and grass

After three it’s alive once again

And is warmed by the light of the star

Named Sun.

And we know it was always this way,

That fate loves those the most

Who live by other rules

And who will die young.

He doesn’t remember the words “yes” and “no,”

He doesn’t remember ranks or names.

And he can reach the stars

Without thinking it is a dream

And fall, burned by the star

Named Sun…

Blood Type -- Gruppa Krovi -- Группа Крови

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dFUUTE58nDQ&feature=related

A warm place, but the streets wait

For our foot prints.

Star dust on the boots,

A soft armchair, a plaid blanket

A trigger pressed too late.

A sunny day in dreams too bright.

My blood type on my sleeve

My ID number on my sleeve,

Wish me luck in the fight, wish me

To not be left laying in this grass

To not be left laying in this grass

Wish me luck, wish me luck!

I have something to pay with, but I don’t want

To win with all I have

I don’t want to put my foot on anyone’s chest

I want to be with you,

Just to be with you,

But the star high in the sky calls me on my way.

My blood type on my sleeve,

My ID number on my sleeve,

Wish me luck in the fight, wish me

To not be left laying in this grass

To not be left laying in this grass,

Wish me luck, wish me luck!

Cuckoo -- Kukushka -- Кукушка

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ACKHcIMlEcM

How many unwritten songs?

Tell me, cuckoo, sing to me.

Shall I live in the city or in the villages?

Lay like a rock or burn like a star?

A star.

My sun – look at me,

My palm turned into a fist,

And if there is gunpowder, give me fire.

And that’s that…

Who will travel the lonely path?

The strong and the brave

Bowed down their heads in the battlefield.

Not many are remembered lightly,

With a sober mind and a hard hand in the line,

In the line.

My sun – look at me,

My palm turned into a fist,

And if there is gunpowder, give me fire.

And that’s that…

Where are you now, freedom?

With whom are you now

Greeting the tender sunrise? Answer me.

It’s good with you, bad without you,

My head and patient shoulders under the whip,

The whip.

My sun – look at me,

My palm has turned into a fist,

And if there is gunpowder, give me fire.

And that’s that…

The Romantic’s Walk -- Progulka Romantika -- Прогулка Романтика

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ytWCCHLObGE

A storm behind the window, a storm

On the other side of the window,

The street lights burn and the shadows are strange.

I look into the night,

I see that the night is dark,

But this won’t prevent the walk of

The romantic

The romantic.

The spaces under gates are frightening,

I hear doors slamming shut.

Black cats cross my road.

Let them cross,

I don’t believe in those fables.

And this won’t prevent the walk of

The romantic,

The romantic.

It’s hard to walk,

I came out a long time ago,

And the evening with friends was so nice and fun.

I drank wine,

I do so love wine,

But this won’t prevent

The walk of the romantic.

I woke up in the subway

When the lights were being turned off,

I was woken by a man in in a red hat;

This is a ring

And there is no train back.

But this won’t prevent

The walk of the romantic.

Every Night -- Kazhduyu Noch' -- Каждую Ночь

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Gy19dZjYRo

It’s the third day the water’s dripping off the sky

So much water dripping down

They say it should be so, here,

They say it’s always been like this.

You know, every night

I dream of the sea.

You know, every night

I dream of a song,

You know, every night,

I dream of a shore,

You know, every night…

We come back to our homes

People walking from house to house,

We sit at the window together,

If you want, I’ll tell you…

You know, every night

I dream of the sea.

You know, every night

I dream of a song,

You know, every night,

I dream of a shore,

You know, every night…

Making things

So far today, I have made a rye bread starter (dunno if it will work...), rye cookies, and a painting. Except I am still not done with the painting. Here is what it's like so far:

























Let's hope I finish it. It's still not very detailed, and the window needs to be touched up a lot.

Da Ling and Siao Ling - Chapter 2 - The King's Law

Without stopping for breath, Ling the Younger ran exactly ten li*. Turned around-- the Monster wasn't chasing him. Then he stopped, caught his breath and started loudly calling for his older brother:
"Gege! Gege!"
But now he remembered that they had run in opposite directions. Who knows where his brother is now! Ling the Younger's eyes filled with tears. He wanted to cry but was too tired, and so he got comfortable in the grass and immediately fell asleep.

A crescent moon came up. In its pale glow, Ling the Younger's tears, not yet dried, shown like pearls.

Ling the Younger sleeps, he has slept for three hours now; how could he know that a new misfortune is already on the road and heading his way in the shape of two pompous noblemen!
One of the noblemen is a dog named Pip, and the second -- a fox, his name is Pippin. Both are dressed very tastefully. Particularly elegant is the hat on mister Pippin's head, looking much like a chrome bucket turned upside down. Perhaps that hat was made of silver, so strongly it glowed in the moonlight.

"I'm lucky today, my friend!" said mister Pip to mister Pippin, "Can you imagine it, this morning I found a completely new wallet on the road!"
"What was in it?" asked Pippin.
"You wouldn't guess for the world. A wallet full of flies!"
"Bother, a wallet with flies! That's not very tasty," answered Pippin, who was known as a rather learned fox and, of course, was very knowledgeable in all things gastronomical.
"Well then, what would you like to find, mister Pippin?" Pip asked, offended.
"In any case, something more edible than flies, mister Pip. Perhaps a small human."
"That's not all that difficult. I have a wonderful sense of smell. If there's any human around, I would definitely smell him out!"

And so conversing, they reached the very place where Ling the Younger was sleeping.

Pip actually jumped with pleasure.
"Mister Pippin! Mister Pippin! I told you we would find something edible! Ha ha!.. Well, of course! Here, look!"
Pippin scratched himself behind the ear and looked at Pip with envy.
And the latter was already sniffing over the sleeping boy and throwing looks full of obvious superiority at his friend.
"What do you think, mister Pippin, how much would I get for him if I sold him by weight?"
Ling the Younger didn't open his eyes.
"I want to sleep," he mumbled sleepily, "who's barking here?"
Pip laughed loudly:
"Well! You're unhappy that we bothered you? Then know: since I found you, you belong to me from now on. I can do whatever I want with you."
Ling the Younger got frightened, his sleepiness vanished -- things were getting bad!
"What do you want from me? I was just sleeping..."
"What do I want? I found you, and now you're mine. There's nothing more to it!" interrupted Pip.
"What do you mean -- found? What do you mean -- yours! I'm not yours, I'm my own."
"Well then! Don't believe me -- ask anyone you want, ask him!" and Pip nodded towards Pippin.
The latter jumped at Ling the Younger and dragged him by his ear, along the ground, towards mister Pip's feet.
"Our nation does have that law," said Pippin in a didactic tone of voice, forcing Ling the Younger to bow to Pip. "If someone finds an object on the road, and he likes this object, it then belongs to him. Mister Pip found you, so now you are his belonging. It's very simple, nothing to argue about."

Ling the Younger rubbed his eyes and, not understanding a thing, stared first at Pip, and then at Pippin.
"Well, I don't believe that a law like that exists!" he cried.
Pip answered:
"Whatever you want. You can believe it, or not believe it, but that's what's written in our law book. I found you, now you're mine. If you don't want to be mine, pay the ransom: a thousand gold bricks. Then I might let you go free."
Ling the Younger desperately tried to tear out of Pippin's prehensile hold, but Pippin was a lot stronger.
"I don't belong to you!" shouted Ling the Younger. "I don't have any gold bricks! I don't believe that law and I don't want to listen to it!"
"Then let's go and ask someone if such a law exists or not. Agreed?" offered Pip.
"Agreed! Let's go to the king!"
"Alright, if it's the king you want, we'll go to the king."

And so they went. Pip held Ling the Younger tightly in his paws, still worrying that me might run away.
"I appreciate your carrying me, mister Pip," said Ling the Younger, "but really, I'm not very comfortable: I can move neither arm nor leg."
Ling the Younger's calculations turned out to be correct. Pip had a lot of strength, but after walking several kilometers, he felt deathly tired.
"Poor mister Pip! Your legs are giving way!" cried Ling the Younger when the dog loosened his grip slightly. "Allow me to walk myself."
"Well, I guess that's alright."
But as soon as Pip let Ling the Younger down on the ground, he shot away from him as though he had grown wings.
In surprise, mister Pippin's ears, hidden under his hat, lifted so suddenly that his precious hat flew into the sky and hung off the crescent moon, not in a hurry to return to its owner. Pippin started crying.
"Oh! My ha-at!" he whimpered, looking entreatingly at Pip, "I have lost such a wonderful hat!"
But mister Pip didn't have time to look for anyone's hat. On all four feet, he set out to chase the boy. Pip ran, of course, much faster than Ling the Younger -- after all, he was descended from hunting dogs.

Oh no! Mister Pip's paws are stretching towards Ling the Younger. He's closer, closer!...
"Come one, Siao Ling! Go faster!" Ling the Younger encouraged himself.
The crescent moon ran along with them in the sky, not a step behind. And on its edge hung mister Pippin's hat, clanking in the wind. Only now did Ling the Younger realize that it was a regular tin bucket, and a toy one at that. He looked back, and in that moment Pip grabbed him by the collar.
"Consider yourself the best runner," said Ling the Younger sighing heavily.
"Talk, talk some more! You're going with me to the king. Let the king himself say whether you're mine or not."
And the dog dragged Ling the Younger to the city. The crescent moon with mister Pippin's hat floated after them.

And pipping was still whimpering. He was looking at his hat with sad eyes and squealing pitifully:
"What should I do? What should I do no-o-w?.."
"What are you whimpering about?" Pip attacked him, "This isn't worth an eaten egg: wait about two weeks until the moon becomes full again, and then your hat will simply fall down."
(tired of translating, will edit and finish later.)

Nocturnal

One of the bad things about depression is not just the worst days -- when you feel like it would be better to never wake up again -- but moderate moments when you feel that you COULD be happy, but for no reason you just aren't, and you can't reach that place. I know I SHOULD be happy, I could be -- I could dance like whirling dervish or research herbs or go to the meadow and make a broom out of tall flowers, but it is as though there is a sleepiness, a cloudiness, and I can't tear out of it. maybe it's this night, or my meds. I had to take a large amount of Midol earlier due to early menstrual cramps...
Speaking of, I wish herbs helped me with that. I love herbs -- I love picking strong smelling flowers and hanging them up to dry, and collecting nice jars for them, and putting together teas for myself -- but the three biggest problems for me are rarely helped by herbs. Those are cramps, insomnia, and depression. Granted, drinking motherwort tea once made me pass out from sleepiness, but it also almost made me throw up from the disgustingly bitter taste. Nothing is strong enough to do much to my depression except hard to obtain things that shouldn't be taken regularly (like kratom), and as far as cramps, well... the only thing that has ever helped was acetaminophen. Not aspirin, tylenol, aleve, motherwort, evening primrose -- it seems my cramps are all powerful. And it's not like I'm all that unhealthy, either...
I know I'm complaining a lot, but it's only because I just don't feel well lately, and it's something I can't seem to do anything about. When I am happy, I am probably happier than "regular" people because I have so much energy to do things -- unfortunately, most of that happiness is concentrated in the times me and Zoe used to hang out in Athens together. whatever odd, sad things happened, we could still stand by the train as it passed us, inches away, or walk down the train tracks pretending the sand is fairy dust, or walk around downtown and collect coins from the fountains to get lunch. It's better to be hungry, cold, or worn out with a friend and a purpose to your day than be full, warm, and relaxed alone inside a house with nowhere to go. Well, I'm hardly warm, but still, that's the gist of it.
I wish there was somewhere to go, and a friend... Zoe is miles away, and while me and Commrad have fun, he would be bored going down the street just talking. He would rather play a video game...
It feels like a have several homes, and I'm homesick for all of them. Moscow, dacha with all its flowers, NYC with its noise and interesting people, and Athens. But I can go to none of those places. If anything, it will end up worse -- I will be forced to move to some suburb and there will be no flowery meadows, no huge oaks; but no interesting people either, just SUV-driving Christian families that think I am "weird" and don't have a shred of imagination in their heads, only Happy Meals in their stomachs.

Interesting mushroom names

In the last couple of weeks, we have had no internet, which means I have spent most of my time reading books and wandering around the new house. In my wandering, I found “The Audubon Society Field guide to North American Mushrooms”. I’m proud to say I can identify Russian mushrooms, at least – I grew up with regular mushroom hunts and can pick some for dinner without poisoning myself. American mushrooms, though – not so much.

The names of the mushrooms range from plain and descriptive (“Firm Russula”), to something that sounds like a disease (“Shingled Trich”, “Blue-Toothed Entoloma”), to just plain odd (“Big Laughing Gym”). In my boredom, I actually categorized and compiled several lists of the more interesting and odd names, which you can now read and enjoy. So, here we go:

The food-related names:

Alcohol Inky

Peppery milky

Sweetbread mushroom

Poison Pie (yum!)

Fried Chicken Mushroom (apparently it does taste like it)

Chocolate Milky

Chicken-fat Suillus

Apricot Jelly

Carnival Candy Slime

Witch’s Butter

Rooting Cauliflower mushroom

Animal-related names:

Salmon Unicorn Entoloma

Imperial Cat

Leaflike Oyster

Pig’s Ear Gomphus

Goat’s Foot

Yellow Rabbit Ears

Wolf’s Milk Slime

Stinky Squid

Lizard’s Claw

Parrot Mushroom

Panther

Fairy Tale and Folklore related names:

Witch’s Hat

Stuntz’s Blue Legs (assuming Stuntz was some folkloric person that I don’t know about)

Prince

Gypsy

Jack O’Lantern

Slippery Jill; Slippery Jack (Two different mushrooms, but I imagine them to be sort of the Bonnie and Clyde of the mushroom kingdom)

Old Man of the Woods

Angel’s Wings

Yellow Fairy Cups

Devil’s Urn

Elf cup

Pyxie Cup (yes, it was spelled like that)

Swamp Beacon

Velvety Fairy Fan

Dryad’s Saddle

Various Objects:

Fuzzy foot

Sulfur tuft

Yellow Oyster mop

Common Fiber Vase

Black Trumpet

Hemlock Varnish Shelf

Artist’s Conk

Indian Paint Fungus (apparently it was used to make war paint)

Hairy Parchment

Red Tree Brain

Velvet Blue Spread

Bladder cup (oh dear)

Tree-ear

Barometer Earthstar

Carbon balls

Wrinkled Thimble Cap

Yellow Tuning Fork

Shaggy Parasol (the best kind, really – that’s why Robinson Crusoe had one)

White Dunce Cap

Personification in some shape or form:

Dung-loving Psilocybe

Bleeding Mycena

Blushing Fiberhead

Sweating Mushroom

Pinecone Tooth

Bearded Tooth (aww…)

Many Headed Slime (sounds evil)

Brown-toothed crust (and disgusting)

Velvety Earth Tongue

Elegant Stinkhorn

Blue-toothed Entoloma

Morbid-sounding names:

Deadly Lawn Galerina

Death cap

Destroying Angel

Strangulated Amanita (probably killed by the Destroying Angel)

Poison Pie (again)

Lead Poisoner

Corpse Finder (according to the mushroom guide’s comments, the name is well deserved – it helped bring a murder to light and also grew on a buried box full of dead baby remains)

Dead Man’s Fingers

Others:

Tawny Grisette

Abruptly-bulbous Agaricus

Big Laughing Gym

Blewit

Pigskin Poison Puffball

Rambling

Today I spent the entire day helping C.'s mom set up for the yard sale. I got a whole boxful of stuff out of it, and some nice free furniture... S. wanted to come over afterwards, but we were tired and very sweaty, and for me, just the time that I spent with her while going to the library and to get something to eat was quite enough. Not because I don't like her -- I do -- but she is a somewhat spoiled little kid and I also have no idea what to talk to her about. I did gloat inside, however, when she liked my vegetable-y sandwich despite C.'s insistence that she "doesn't like healthy things, because healthy things are gross".
I don't understand why so many Americans seem to hold this point of view. Some time ago I saw a commercial -- something about tricking your kids into liking healthy food. But when I was little -- and even now -- I don't sort out what food I like by "healthy" and "unhealthy" -- I just eat what I like and also what my body feels like eating (there is a slight difference between the two, though if you pay attention enough, it mostly disappears). If I feel like eating a salad, it's not because I'm worried about my weight, it's because I fucking like it, and if I am eating a huge piece of cake -- it is also because I like it! And no, I don't feel "sinful" or guilty for eating something that contains fat. Amazingly enough, I do not consider fat to be the Devil himself.
Generally, I think my PTSD is rearing its ugly head again, and there are so many things people don't even think has to do with PTSD that often does, when you have it -- skin picking (it looks like my upper arms have been attacked by ants, but it's hard to stop), disliking certain liquids or foods, feeling like you are going between worlds... yesterday I think I almost cried because my mind became lost back in Russia, where my grandparents disapprove of my every move, where they want to know what I plan to do, and in relation to which I have no fucking IDEA as far as what to do. Whether I will move there, and how, and the house, and if I move there how will I blend in, and how will I get a job (?????), and how everyone in Moscow acts like they hate you, and how would I deal with the racism, the misogyny, the complete absence of feminism, the homophobia... I wish I could just live there without all of that -- I wish I could blend in the dacha, the apartment in Moscow, the forest and the Russian winter and watching on old Russian movies on New Years, with having a wonderful, feminist, supportive family (not necessarily in the blood lines sense, but just a community of some sort -- all of my best friends and favourite people), and having some sort of recognition as an artist. And then after I think about all these things, I feel alone -- none of my friends, in real life or online, are having to choose which country to live in, are having to choose basically their fate and much of the rest of their lives without knowing the outcome... none of them are making a major decision of this kind that either cut them off from everybody and make them bitter, or leave them without a home to go to. Then I feel guilty, because of course they are having their own problems that may be just as bad, just different... ugh. I don't know.