Текст песни В.С. Высоцкий - Бабье лето

Maples painted the city
Some kind of witchcraft light.
It means it soon
Indian summer, Indian summer.

That the leaves are melting so quickly
I don't understand anything ...
And I catch how these leaves,
Our dates, our dates.

And I recklessly twist
The windiest of women.
And I have been looking for this for a long time -
And no more and no less.

Yes, only mom scolds,
That I’m not there at night
And that I'm drunk too often
Indian summer, Indian summer

Maples painted the city
Some kind of witchcraft light.
This is a pool, oh, this is a pool -
Indian summer, Indian summer.