Текст песни Высоцкий Владимир - Бабье лето

Maples painted city
MAGICAL some color.
It soon is soon
Indian Summer , Indian Summer .
It soon is soon
Indian Summer , Indian Summer .

So quickly melt leaves,
I do not understand anything .
And I find these leaves
Our choice , our choice.

And I circled recklessly
With the windiest of women
And I was looking for such
And no more and no less.

Only now scolds mom
Nights that I do not have.
I'm too often drunk
Indian Summer , Indian Summer .

I forgot when I was at home,
Confused the night and dawn.
This maelstrom , oh this maelstrom -
Indian Summer , Indian Summer .