Not to return those careless years
And the frost is only minus two.
A little bit of long-awaited snow-
Everything was barely white.
The bluebirds were sitting in the trees
And about something with a whistle sing.
Frost on the branches, like cilia,
Creates beauty and comfort.
This winter day euphony
And,the exquisite beauty,
I was reminded of my childhood and youth.
It is a pity that they will never be returned.
Not to return those careless years,
That they had gone far away...
Those days of happiness and complete freedom-
I'm sorry for them now.
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