8 марта [8 Marta] [English translation]

Everyone knows how much I loved you,

How we would walk together in a yellow September

But then all of that was carried away somewhere,

And those walks through that Muscovite nighttime came to an end.

Fall rushed by so quickly, and so arrived the frost

And one day I happened to see you with someone else.

Tell me, why did those tears well up?

Why did my heart fill with sadness, despair, grief?

I changed the strings on my guitar three times,

Because of how many sad songs I sang.

So the days rushed by, in this drunken stupor

In which I had time to lose more than a few friendships as well.

But one evening, I heard my phone ring out,

And as I took the call, I heard your voice again.

You told me that you hadn't lost your love for me,

And that you very much wanted to meet with me.

I stood there and listened as you cried into the phone,

But in the end, I didn't say a word in reply.

On the 8th of March, everyone is given presents

And for you: I wrote this song.