Текст песни Сергій Онищенко - Яблуневі обійстя

- Apple orchards -

Apple trees near your house,
Wrapped in the gray moire of rain,
This year they were late with their color.

Being late just enough to
Walking through the wet canyons of the streets,
Cursed by village dogs,

Feel like a lonely fast river,
Its waters immediately changed direction
And merged into the roots of the trees.

"My apple ... don't you hear,
Like our children, just conceived by bees, cry
In the wombs of swollen kidneys?

Time, like an experienced gardener, changes space
Continuous movements of clockwise,
Which, like scissors, cut dead branches.

Everything has changed - the lakes that once sang,
Now sleep soundly.
People who were once silent have learned to speak.

"Yes, my dear Adam, I hear ...!"
There will be a good apple harvest this year,
That even the Serpent and he will eat enough.