Текст песни Наталья Быстрова - Скорбь облетевших тополей

The grief of the circled poplars
We are promised dirt and cold.
The last leaf circles silently
Between hoarse cramps of branches.
God forbid you in the eyes of your beloved
To see for a single moment
The grief of the circled poplars.
How lonely the forest makes a noise.
In his raw gloomy more often
That sound, dreary and nagging,
It is like a pain in the soul.
God forbid you under a warm roof
Among your friends hear
How lonely the forest makes a noise.
A bonfire burns in the night steppe
Blazing with might and main, friendly with the wind,
But that fire is no longer needed:
Warming up, the travelers left.
God forbid you, God forbid
Suddenly he becomes like a fire.
A bonfire burns in the night steppe ...