Насчет четвертого куплета: у Цоя его нет, и я не знаю, откуда он взялся. Но я услышал песню именно вот так=)
Some white snow, some grey ice
Winter freeze isn't terribly nice
Patchy town spreads itself on the ground
Roads lock it by circuit of sounds
Clouds cover that town from sight
Hiding it from the arrows of light
Town, wrapped in it's yellow smokehold,
Nearly two thousand years is old
All this time was spent under the star
The Sun, as we call it
There was war going on all these years
But there was no reason for fears
War is hailed by the youngs as a gold
It's a remedy from getting old
Blood, red blood, dreadful spilled red blood
In an hour turns itself into soil
In two hours there are flowers unspoilt
Yet one more, it's alive as before
And the star gives it life even more
The Sun, as we call it
And we know, this was always like so:
Fortune favors much more that guy
Who respects not a common man's law
And afraids not of danger to die
He remembers neither good thing nor bad
He considers neither ranking nor name
But can simply touch the star by his hand
Never thinking that this is just a game
And fall down when burned by the heat
Of the Sun, as we call it
Singing this not as simple as breath
I can fight for my neighbour to death
I hate lies all my life, as I live
This allows me so quickly forgive
If you wish, take that song and do sing
When united, people make wonderful things
And the life many miracles them brings
They can fly, they can go wery far
If protected and led by our star
The Sun, as we call it