birch, gay language,
The cranes, sadly flying,
I do not pity any more com.
whom I will? After all, everyone in the world wanderer -
will be held, will go again and leave the house.
Of all the dreams gone Konoplyanik
With a wide month over the blue pond.
I stand alone among bare plains,
A crane carries the wind in the distance,
I am full of thoughts of youth fun,
But nothing in the past I'm not sorry.
Do not pity me years, wasted in vain,
Do not pity the soul lilac.
In the garden, mountain ash burning fire,
But no, he can not warm.
Not obgorite rowan brush,
Yellowing of the grass will not be lost,
As the tree drops quietly leaves,
So I drop my sad words.
And if time, wind mark,
Raked them all in one unnecessary com ...
Let's just say ... that golden grove
Dissuaded sweet tongue.