I draw you on the glass

And your eyes, darling, I see again ...

The window is quietly falling snow ...

Somewhere out there, in the distance, maybe you

You see the stars, the moon on the damage

There it is warm, green bushes,

Willows are leaning over the river.

To me often you come to sleep

With that distant treacherous autumn ...

We did not wait for you with spring ...

But, love is still alive, albeit with graying.

Outside the window, the snow is coming and going,

And I've been waiting for you for how many years,

And will melt in my soul the ice

Your dream is a portrait ...

How I am bitterly separated from hatred.

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