I turn the TV off, I write a letter to you
About how I can't watch this shit anymore
About how I am out of strength
That I almost started drinking, but haven't forgotten you
That the phone rang. It wanted me to get up,
To dress and walk, or rather to run
But I let it be,
Said that I'm sick, and tired from my sleepless night
I'm waiting for an answer, there is no hope left
Soon, summer will end.
This summer.
Now the weather is fair--it's the fourth day straight of rain
But the radio said that even in the shade it will be hot.
But still, the shade I am in
Remains warm and dry; however, I'm afraid now...
And time goes by day by day: one day of eating, three days of drinking,
And our lives are good; it's not important that it's raining outside
My radio broke
It is silent, all is well.
I'm waiting for an answer, there is no hope left
Soon, summer will end.
This summer.
Outside the window, there is construction-- a crane is working
That restaurant around the corner has been closed for five years
And on the table is a jar
In the jar is a tulip, and on the windowsill is a glass.
And year after year it will go on like this, just like life.
And for the hundredth time, the bread will fall butter-side down.
But maybe there will be a day,
Or at least an hour, when we will be lucky.
I'm waiting for an answer, there is no hope left
Soon, summer will end.
This summer.