R
From far away a long while
The River Volga Runs (Its) Way,
The river Volga runs (its) way
And seems (as such) without ends.
Along the fields of grain crops
In winter along the snowdrifts
My river Volga runs way
I'm in the age of seventeen.
1
My mother told me "All may be, my son,
Say, you'd get tired from long trips,
When you'll reach home after a while
Just touch the Volga with your hands".
R
From far away a long while
The river Volga runs (its) way,
The river Volga runs (its) way
And seems (as such) without ends.
Along the fields of grain crops
In winter along the snowdrifts
My river Volga runs way
I reached already thirty years
2
That first your glance and paddle splash -
All that had happened, and by river gone.
I'm not upset about the past spring,
Instead your love's presented within me
R
From far away a long while
The river Volga runs (its) way,
The river Volga runs (its) way
And seems (as such) without ends.
Along the fields of grain crops
In winter along the snowdrifts
My river Volga runs (its) way
Already seventy years.
3
Here's my pier and here are my friends -
That is all without what we cannot live.
From distant part of river under sky in stars
Another stripling sings along with me
R
From far away a long while
The river Volga runs (its) way,
The river Volga runs (its) way
And seems (as such) without ends.
Along the fields of grain crops
In winter along the snowdrifts
My river Volga runs way
I'm in the age of seventeen.
By BORIS K'ZORIN, the another last romantic ©, Los Angeles, CA 2014