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Winter
I keep deep in my heart Before my eyes red finches are Like rowan berries on the snow The snows of Russia, the snows of Russia Where smoke smells like bread Why are you, memory, in pain with snows in pain with snows of Russian land
Road is very long In that far-away steppe Coachman froze to death
All around becomes so light from them It’s so good when you become so joyful Because of your beloved faithful friend
Why our love has come at this time? Winter love has short, short term to live Snow is falling down so quietly
The winter lived in house She pickled snowballs In pail made out of birch wood She was creating yarn And weaving canvases Was forging icy bridges Over river where she lived Ceiling made out of ice Door keeps creaking and Right behind the rough wall Darkness piercing and If you step on the porch Frosting’s everywhere From the window comes smoke Blue, it’s very blue.
And everything waits for something Because you’re in my destiny I say, thank you, the snow
Worrisome and white snowfall You are living very far away You do not remember me at all I feel restless most every night Feeling guilty and in pain Quietness keeps wondering through night Quietly
And winds will start crying , will wail over snow – the winter came Make bed out of snow and push through the window the winter starts But I will be thinking and I will be dreaming of spring As if it came from far away and as if it just returned Like girls in white prom dresses apple trees ‘re standing in the night They look so festive once again and they trust their happiness’s so near Their hearts so full with new hope, new faith This is no winter in our vast space, this is a swan bird in the vast sky Flopping its white wings, she’s friend of the spring
Horses fly like in the dream Under freezing sky of blue On the road, wide and white One’s heart’s thrown away Into blizzard’s way The arrow of longest road Lays on snowy steppe Like tear drop on the cheek And only clatter of hooves Only song’s being heard ‘bout frozen coachman in the snow
Don’t knock in my door, don’t twist by the gate Snowfall, snowfall, if the woman is asking Don’t rush her late spring, or late summer of hers
We’re wondering whole day, from morning to the night And everything around was quiet and so solemn The snow that was white over river Neva But suddenly there was fresh wind of springtime When we were by my home you wrote on the snow With help of broken twig, two words you only wrote “Tatyana plus Sergei” and nothing, nothing else The land was white, the whitest white, the blizzard blew Tatyana’s Day, Tatyana’s Day, But as for me land was in bloom and April sang: Tatyana’s Day, Tatyana’s Day, Tatyana’s Day
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