Why do birches in Russia make such noises?
Why do their white trunks understand everything?
They stand by the road against strong wind.
And in grief are their leaves gone.
I am going along the road with wandering joy,
This may be all that I grasp in my life.
Why so bitterly do the leaves float?
Do they caress my soul under the clothes?
And my heart is burning with passion again,
Now and again without an answer.
Falls on my shoulder a leaf from the birches,
Just like me, leaving the branches.
I will sit on the path with you, my dear.
You'd know that I will return, don't ever be sad.
And waved goodbye the old granny,
And the gate closed behind me.
Why do birches in Russia make such noises?
Why does the accordion sound so pleasant?
Wind's fingers easily pick the leaves down,
Also the last one, eh, sank with the flown.
And my heart is burning with passion again,
Now and again without an answer.
Falls on my shoulder a leaf from the birches,
Just like me, leaving the branches.
And my heart is burning with passion again,
Now and again without an answer.
Falls on my shoulder a leaf from the birches,
Just like me, leaving the branches.