Текст песни Мария Михайлова - Віють вітри

Winds are blowing, violent winds are blowing,
As much as the trees bend ...
Oh how my heart aches,
And tears do not flow!

I spend summers in February grief
And I do not see the end,
Only then and easier,
As a secret cry.

"Where are you, dear, black-bearded?
Where are you? Find yourself!
How I, poor thing, mourn here,
Come, look!