Lyrics Виктор Берковский - Осенины

And when the bread is ripe,
When the apple trees were given birth,
We feasted
All that was met in April.
Where the interstices of winter and summer,
There are grim-faced aspens
From the soul splashed colors -
Autumn, autumn.

And the second oseniny
In the summer of the summer they smiled,
Nose in the mirror buried
And the eyelashes podsinili.
And, coming to their senses, men
Warm women were hugged,
Their embarrassment was listened to -
Autumn, autumn.

And on the third autumn
Autumn thoughts swarmed:
We will not give love for offense,
Under the snow we will not bury!
And on the third autumn
The idea dawned on us -
A century to love and live backward -
Young, young!
And, hearing an owlish cry
In the dark more often, in the thick of it,
We will inflame the fire more ...
Autumn, autumn.