There is no better blossom,
Then the apple-tree in spring.
There is no better moment,
When my darling coming in.
When I see him, when I hear him,
Then the everything is whirled.
All my soul is on fire,
All my soul sings a song.
We would look in eyes each other,
And the hot hands bind along.
And together we are walking
Unawared where for...
And around apples blossoming,
They're white throughout May.
And the shining moon in starry sky
Could permit the needle find.
We're wandering along the foothpath,
Where grass is never razed.
And from heart the words are flowing,
Which you never could forget.
By the river the accordeon
Playing silent first, then loud.
There is no better moment,
When my darling simply come.
There is no better blossom,
Then the apple-tree in spring.
There is no better moment,
When my darling coming in.
When I see him, when I hear him,
Then the everything is whirled.
All my soul is on fire,
All my soul sings a song.
Лучше нету того цвету,
Когда яблоня цветет,
Лучше нету той минуты,
Когда милая придет.
Как увижу, как услышу —
Все во мне заговорит,
Вся душа моя пылает,
Вся душа моя горит.
Мы в глаза друг другу глянем,
Руки жаркие сплетем,
И куда — не знаем сами —
Словно пьяные, бредем.
Мы бредем по тем дорожкам,
Где зеленая трава,
Где из сердца сами рвутся
Незабвенные слова.
А кругом сады белеют,
А в садах бушует май,
И такой на небе месяц —
Хоть иголки подбирай.
За рекой гармонь играет —
То зальется, то замрет...
Лучше нету того цвету,
Когда яблоня цветет.
«Thus others to the wounded crane / Call, “Kurlee, kurlee!” humbly. / As the autumnal fields remain / At once both, warm and crumbly… Thus, for me, ailing, a call resounds, / The golden wings are beating / Somewhere from the dense low clouds / And from the thickets, pleading: “I...»
«In the churchyard, I’ll sleep soundly / Underneath the slab of oak, / And my darling, you will run to me / For a Sunday morning talk — / Cross the stream and there you are, / Leaving grown-ups at a loss, / And sharp-sighted, from afar, / You will recognize my cross. / And I know ...»
«Your spirit, by your arrogance obscured, / Won’t let you see the sunlight in the world, / You say our faith is but a dream’s allure, / This capital — a mere mirage of old. You say — my country’s sinful, all the same, / And I say that your country’s simply godless. / And even ...»
«I come and I’m relieved of restlessness. / The early morning chill is nice to savor. / Mysterious and dark, those settlements — / Storehouses for prayer and tough labor. Such confident and tranquil love will not / Give way to any other place in time, / There is inside of me a drop of ...»