Rain washed

St. Petersburg...

I am back in the Alexander Garden.
The leaves rustle at my feet, not loudly,
And I'm delirious with a smile on my lips,
I am here again, inquiring descendants.

About this city on the banks of the Neva,
You have been sung by poets a lot,
No different from them, I, alas!
I often praised your spirit and strength.

My city of Peter, granites of the Neva
And with a stroke of canals and rivulets,
You reach the depths of the heart
By the firing of Peter and Paul from the cannons.

Kazan Cathedral austere view
Soaring in columns proudly,
He speaks of the strength of our Russian,
My descendant, distant and inquisitive.