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Three good girls: Lyuba, Nadya, Verochka
They are all dead, they were killed, and we were there
We saw them screaming, but we were silent
Even though we knew that blood would be shed

Lyubov died first - she was the sweetest of them
A beautiful girl, she was liked by everyone
How her life melted away in fear in her eyes
May she be well in heaven
Vera became the next dead body
The one who wanted to warm everyone with her warmth
She helped everyone who felt bad
Her soul was especially cruelly taken from her
And last, Nadezhda died, I had never seen before
A person die for so long
As if the one who took her soul was hesitating
Maybe it would have been better if this cheerful laughter had continued
But they killed everyone, no one survived
Everything is the same, no one cares
We allowed them to be killed in order to live peacefully
So as not to believe, not to hope, and not to love
Nine days passed, forty days and so on
We desecrated and trampled on their graves
We lost three girls and we don't feel sorry
That there is a black emptiness inside, garbage and junk
We no longer believe in words, we no longer love people
We do not hope for the best in the series of gray days
We are alone, without a spark in our eyes and a flame in our souls
We silently drink vodka and make money
We sell the dismembered bodies of three tortured women
The expectation of a convenient opportunity has become a surrogate for faith
Hope has long been replaced by an artificial paradise
And Love is rearranged with + places
We know ourselves that our hands are up to our elbows in blood, but we are hypocritical
We pretend that we believe, hope, love, we make films
We sing songs, write books, we breathe the smell of corpses
We sway time and do not hear the screams of a dying conscience
We are calm, our conscience is clear, we have not betrayed anyone
We were in a state of affect, we did not know what we were doing
We live with new victories, old troubles
Without remembering the past, what good will be in our future
Our present is an invented happiness
Blow on it, and it will fall apart like a house of cards
Our concerns have become thoughts about how to steal more
Eat sweeter and sleep more often
Only something is missing, cats are scratching inside
Scientists are working hard, resurrecting the trinity from the dead, they know it will pay off a hundredfold
There is a great demand for ideals now
Posthumously, they have become stars, but it's too late
It is futile and silly to try to make corpses alive
There is no way to bring them back to life
Faith, Hope, Love, may your memory be bright
In your honor, girls, a minute of silence