Запоздалое Бабье лето

Once I was told,
that Indian summer
can hurt with love
the hearts of poets,
And at that time
I met you once,
we were both silent
like little children.
Our eyes shone
innocent-tender,
And world has seemed
large and unbound.
Then autumn seemed
to us like summer.
In eyes were questions,
but no answers.

Chorus.
Ah, Indian summer,
ah, Indian summer -
Into thick fog
is a path of light,
In autumnal sky
is sun scarlet ray,
It is quite warm,
but it's belated.

But we together
are not such old,
That not be able
to make a pair,
But someone's voice
will creakly whisper,
That at eighteen
love is more stronger.
And we're over forty
and it will be means,
That life unchanged
for us no longer .
Let Indian summer
rush by with winds,
Leaving a wound
in my poet's soul.

Chorus.
Ah, Indian summer,
ah, Indian summer -
Into thick fog
is a path of light,
In autumnal sky
is sun scarlet ray,
It is quite warm,
but it's belated.

Бабка Ежка   28.12.2024 08:29   •   Заявить о нарушении