Текст песни Yann Tiersen - Summer of 78

Mail dreams on the shoulder at sunrise.
Bitter, sweet, spicy dreams.
Do not write, you will not come up with the go,
As in my thoughts, you only twist.

Yellow slanting flames will be supported,
I'll kill bread dawn on the ground.
In the cage of fate heart pouring,
Hiding him in the swelling foliage.

Spirits of the winds from the south and from the north
Affectionately treplyt sunset and sunrise.
Maybe when I believed in love,
But not finding me now past words.