The meaning of the lyrics of the song "Morozovsky Gorodok" (Morozovskiy gorodok) the performer of the song "Mikhail Krug"

I wouldn't have understood much in life, nor would I sing with sorrow, without a touch of pride.

Some drown their souls in wine, while others have emptiness within.

I wouldn't love my Motherland, the Volga, so deeply, so passionately,

If I wasn't swayed by this flag, red with blood.

The proletarian courtyards of my childhood have long since become dormitories,

Cramped by today's standards, but we lived there, knew everyone so well.

Thoughts of the past tug at my soul, I gaze through the window where I once lived, with sadness:

Someone's drying their bras, the smell of perfume wafting from the vent.

Must have brought in a bunch of bedbugs, in our time, not a single one,

Don't recall a time someone cursed or didn't show respect.

Slap it on a piece of bread, down a mug, clench your fist with a satisfied grunt.

Good stuff, pity it's scarce, you jingle your pocket change for a "chekushechka".

It was a time for drunken revelry, the "Express" cafe was in full swing,

Vitёk Bazanov, gifted me, a young lad then, his guitar.

I remember him entering the dark entrance, in his slippers, staring at his feet...

That's how I remember him, God willing, he's outlived many.

Time has passed, slipped away, some drank themselves to death, foolishly.

Yet, you need so little in life: a home, a plant, a wife, and a son.

To the bathhouse on Sovetskaya street, with steam, though it's a tight squeeze with a washbowl.

And later, surrounded by old friends, I would continue my song...

Я бы мало в жизни что понял и без понта бы не пел с грустью.

У кого душа в вине тонет, у кого так в ней вообще пусто.

Я бы Родину свою, Волгу, не любил так глубоко, страстно,

Не сбивали бы меня с толку этим флагом, от крови красным.

Пролетарские дворы детства общежитием давно стали,

Там по меркам нынешним тесно, но мы жили там, так всех знали.

Мысль о прошлом теребит душу, я в окно, где жил, смотрю с грустью:

Кто-то лифчики свои сушит, да из форточки несёт дустом.

Знать, клопов напривезли кучу, а при нас, так ни одной гниды,

Да не помню я такой случай, чтоб кто гнал, да не подал вида.

а положишь на ломоть сала, выпьешь кружку, аж в кулак крякнешь.

Хороша, да жалко, что мало, и на "чекушку" мелочью звякнешь.

Было время для ребят пьяным, и кафе-экспресс давал жару,

Мне, юнцу ещё, Витёк Базанов подарил тогда свою гитару.

Помню, он входил в подъезд тёмный в своих шлёпанцах, смотря в ноги...

Я его таким сейчас помню, дал бы Бог, так пережил многих.

Было время, но прошло, скралось, кто-то спился да зачах сдуру.

Но ведь надо в жизни так мало: дом, растение и сын с мамой.

На Советской в баньку бы с паром, да трудно с тазом там пролезть - тесно.

И потом в кругу друзей старых я продолжил бы свою песню...

In the song "Morozovsky Gorodok" ("Morozov Town"), Mikhail Krug reflects on his life and values, contrasting the past and the present. The lyrics are filled with nostalgia for his childhood spent in simple working-class neighborhoods where everyone knew each other and lived, albeit in cramped quarters, but in harmony.

The opening lines are a meditation on what shaped him as a person, his soulfulness and patriotism. He acknowledges that he might not have attained such an understanding of life, such deep love for his homeland and the Volga River, if not for the events of the past, symbolized by the red flag, soaked in blood.

He goes on to describe with sadness the changes that have taken place in his native courtyard, which has become a faceless dormitory where people are strangers to each other. Everyday details ("someone is drying their bras") emphasize the contrast with the past, where completely different relationships prevailed.

The author also recalls the "proletarian luxury" of those times: simple treats that seemed tastier than any delicacies, and the opportunity to share them with friends.

A special place in his memories is occupied by Vityok Bazanov, who gave him his first guitar and perhaps determined his future destiny. The image of Bazanov entering the dark entrance symbolizes the simplicity and warmth inherent in the people of that time.

The final verses are filled with a philosophical mood. The author acknowledges the fleeting nature of time, speaking of those who could not cope with life's difficulties ("drank themselves to death"). But he himself sees happiness in simple things: home, family, the opportunity to take a steam bath and share joy with friends.

The entire song is permeated with love for his native places and people, longing for a bygone era, and appreciation for the simple, yet important values.