Father of apples
Is staring into a blooming garden;
A strange glance.
Father of apples
Can hear a movement of roots in a dream/sleep.
From winter to spring;
His love is not here.
His love has minus fifteen years (of age).
She awaits beyond a dilapidated wing of house,
Behind the dark glass
And she feels herself infinitely strange.
Father of apples
Clearly hears the native language;
Everyone is here.
Father of apples
Asks the jurymen to take their places
And sit down modestly.
My love is simple.
My love can be seen by one in a hundred -
She awaits
Behind the long winter
Next to me,
And we feel ourselves infinitely strange.