歌词
The golden grove dissuaded me,
Speaking the merry language of the birches.
And as the cranes fly passed in sadness
They have no pity left for anyone.
I’m standing on a barren plain.
The wind is carrying the cranes away.
I’m full of thoughts about my merry youth.
I don’t regret a thing that’s past.
I don’t regret the wasted years,
Nor the lilac colour of my heart.
Red rowan blazes on my garden fire,
But now it cannot warm a soul.
The rowan branches won’t burn up.
The grass is yellowed but it isn’t dead.
And, as the tree sheds leaves in silence,
Just so I shed these words of sadness now.