Текст песни Игорь Малыгин - Сентябрь

September

The beginning of autumn and August are one thing:
the earth is kindly, pampered, warmed up.
And the emerald golden song of summer
rings and pours into the world like sweet wine.

But every day more and more clearly the falsity
in the sound of the August score.
Now bass, now violin, now cello, now viola
can't win her fingerings.

And the consanant velvet major
is perceived as an absurd mistake.
The mad conductor improvises
giving a solo to everyone at once, like the first violin.

Mixing color, breaking tempo, shifting rhythm -
unrecognizably changes the essence of nature.
Then the trumpet flares up like a torch - and the forest burns,
then the harp passages cast down the waters.

But through the collapse, decay of harmony and delirium
suddenly a certain system appears.
And now another theme is clearly audible,
but the theme of August, alas, is no longer in it.