Narrow crossroad in old Moscow White gloves, dullness in the eyes Red tramcars, blue coats Nobody loves you and nobody waits At home, policeman You haaven't been to the forest, haven't seen the sea Why are you so calm Standing on point duty As if there were no forest, as if there were no sea? So take off the peaked cap, destroy the baton Run with me, policeman But who will control the traffic Who will prevent an accident Who will stop children crossing the road Who will hang up a sign in the right place? Narrow crossroad Commanding hand White glove Moscow behind him Yellow newspaper Low ceiling He was calm and unruffled He lived this way -----------------------------------------------------------
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