Следы [Sledy] [English translation]

You better leave your blues until the next spring days.

Towards the North the airplanes are departing.

The nighttime flight will boom above the forest glades,

The nighttime flight is not the time for flying.

CHORUS

And neither ice of March, nor this eternal heat,

Nor monuments that with tin stars are covered,

Would once cut off the path to where the fires are lit,

To roads not taken yet, to nameless summits.

We all forgot the taste of freshly baked wheat bread,

We switched from cigarettes to coarse tobacco.

It seems that we all have a common fate ahead,

The same sunrise will warm our hands tomorrow.1

CHORUS

The stormy clouds conceal unripened rain today,

The time has not yet come to draw conclusions.

These clouds soon will bring the winter blizzards' play;

And we will hit the roads, the roads were chosen.

CHORUS

1. Actually, in the original it is the other way around: the sunrise is warmed up by the hands :)