Mihael Gudovskih — Король дорог

Dawn settles on the hood again. And once more the run calls me to the road. A hot thermos, a lively talk, and behind me — hundreds of old mountains. I know every descent and every bridge, where the checkpoint stands and where a good host waits, where the coffee’s good, where lodging’s simple, where a gas station with a kind soul waits.

I’m king of the highway, brother — I go forward. Under me the engine, and in the soul — flight. Headlights cut the night, and the soul sings. Whoever lives by the road will understand me. I’m king of the highway — I know the route: where others stop, I’m already there. Wind in the window and freedom calling. My life is the road, and it doesn’t lie.

Around the bend — a field and fog. And in my hands not a wheel — a romance. The wheels whisper: “Brother, hold on.” I laugh back: such is life. I know where the climb is, where the black ice is, where better to ease off, where the opposite, where you can stop, wash up, rest. And on the road again — and once more, safe travels.

I’m king of the highway, brother — I go forward. Under me the engine, and in the soul — flight. Headlights cut the night, and the soul sings. Whoever lives by the road will understand me. I’m king of the highway — I know the route: where others stop, I’m already there. Wind in the window and freedom calling. My life is the road, and it doesn’t lie.

Not for glory, not for loud words — but for the work, for simple foundations. The road teaches you to be stronger inside. If you love the path — then drive.

I’m king of the highway, brother — I go forward. Under me the engine, and in the soul — flight. Headlights cut the night, and the soul sings. Whoever lives by the road will understand me. I’m king of the highway — that’s my law, my faithful engine and the old stretch of road. As long as the road’s call [?] lives in me, I’ll race ahead with no extra words.