| Aromas of vanilla, cotton candy puffs,
|
| They float above me, disappearing into the distance.
|
| The braids of the vine are braided,
|
| Leaving smiles and some tears.
|
| And the rain draws on the windows,
|
| Reminds me of your kisses.
|
| The thing is, the rain doesn't risk anything,
|
| And I'm afraid I've lost you.
|
| I miss you impossibly
|
| I am very sick, I am almost dying.
|
| And somewhere you won't know anything
|
| And I'm afraid I've lost you.
|
| You are on Malaya Ordynka, I am on Khreshchatyk,
|
| We do not find ourselves in funny pictures.
|
| We were left as a reward, maybe lucky
|
| Mountains of broken happiness, and the seventh petal.
|
| And the rain draws on the windows,
|
| Reminds me of your kisses.
|
| The thing is, the rain doesn't risk anything,
|
| And I'm afraid I've lost you.
|
| I miss you impossibly
|
| I am very sick, I am almost dying.
|
| And somewhere you won't know anything
|
| And I'm afraid I've lost you.
|
| And the rain draws on the windows,
|
| Reminds me of your kisses.
|
| The thing is, the rain doesn't risk anything,
|
| And I'm afraid I've lost you.
|
| I miss you impossibly
|
| I am very sick, I am almost dying.
|
| And somewhere you won't know anything
|
| And I'm afraid I've lost you. |