Kino and Calamity

So, today I was happily listening to Russian rock music on my computer, dutifully working to improve my language skills, when I realized that I had encountered the perfect song to accompany the orientation programs of the Middlebury School in Russia. The entire spirit of the enterprise, the enthusiasm for striking fear into the hearts of listeners, the love of calamity and worst-case scenario: it was all there. There was no mention of manhole covers, but I guess even Victor Tsoi has his faults, and Middlebury is after all a very prestigious establishment of learning, slightly better equipped to research ALL available means of death to the innocent civilian. So, anyway, without further ado, the words of the song, to the best of my translating ability:

Look after yourself, by Kino

Today they say to someone "until we meet again!"
Tomorrow they will say "goodbye forever,"
The angry wound reddens.

Tomorrow someone, upon returning home,
Will find his city in ruins;
Someone will fall from a tall crane.

Refrain:
Look after yourself, be careful; look after yourself.

Tomorrow morning someone in bed
will realize that he is incurably sick;
Somone, leaving his house, will fall under a car;
Tomorrow somewhere, in one of the hospitals
the hand of a young surgeon will shake;
Someone in the forest will stumble upon a mine.

Refrain

In the night a plane flew overhead;
Tomorrow it will fall into the ocean,
and all the passengers will drown;
Tomorrow somewhere, who knows where:
War, epidemic, a snowstorm on the steppe,
Black holes of the cosmos.

Refrain


The thing is, this was one of my favorite Kino songs before I paid attention to the words. It has a very catchy but relaxing tune, and Victor Tsoi’s voice is at its most mysteriously deep and doleful. This is worse than when I realized what Zemfira was singing in “You have AIDS, and that means we will DIE.” Victor, Victor, go back to the recklessness of “Our Mother is Anarchy”! (Actually I just realized what the real words to that song were today too- I thought he was saying Мама- Нархия, which I figured meant narcotic addict, which would be pretty hard-core as well.) Don’t give in to the pull of the masses of babushkas screeching for you to put on a warmer hat! I guess actually my pleading will have little effect, as our young singer himself did not heed his own advise very well, or at least didn’t think to put motorcycle crashes on the list of