Текст песни Юрий Насыбуллин и Марина Багинская - Коррида

The cloak of the color of blood curls with laughter and shout
Seducing like the ghost of freedom
Bovine withers like black shark fin
Cuts the arena like water
Foam flakes fly into the hot sand
The sun is pouring down molten copper
Pain and rage push the bull to throw
Matador dances a dance with death

Chorus:
Here he climbs right on the horns
Two dancers are dancing in the arena
But one under the skin of a bull
And the other with the sword of the matador

On the podium, a crowd of all varieties and stripes
There are many different and different people of us
Only the bloody smell of our passions
The proximity of death tickles our nerves
How reckless is the sound of low strings
In our souls along the nerves like a whip
Oh, how we like it from the safe stands
Watch these games with death

Chorus

It's the same duel it's the same race
Understand: who is the catcher, who is the prey
Or the horns of the matador's belly
Either a stream of bull's blood will spray
So our fate is fleeting, like a fight
We are driven by anger and resentment
The place of the fallen is again taken by another
The cloak is twisted, the bullfight triumphs.

Chorus