| The higher the moon rises, the louder the chorus of cicadas
|
| - The darker the horizon
|
| And before work, we are ten years old, but for now
|
| - See how I can
|
| I can steer past the track, look
|
| Even with one hand
|
| I can touch a hedgehog, run through nettles
|
| - It doesn't hurt a bit.
|
| Birches, as one, or the truth is one
|
| - No one will figure it out
|
| You are naked, you are naked
|
| You are red from the sun
|
| Such high lindens, distant stars
|
| How the sea rustles the grass
|
| Antennas and lines, you know
|
| Adults get headaches
|
| Spring, we do not believe, spring
|
| Frozen, swim, fog, swim
|
| And we are like March cats
|
| Conquest from love
|
| Conquest from love
|
| Through the clearings of others, we ran away
|
| We run, frightened by the shadow
|
| It's funny and scary to us, and you're sticky
|
| To the lips, like country jam
|
| Let's go a little more, and there
|
| You look, and the house - they will scold us very much
|
| They ran barefoot, smelled of cornflower
|
| And became the colors of the night
|
| Such high lindens, distant stars
|
| How the sea rustles the grass (how the sea rustles the grass)
|
| Antennas and lines, and you know, in adults
|
| They give me a headache
|
| Spring, do not believe them, spring
|
| Frozen, swim, fog, swim
|
| And we are like March cats
|
| Conquest from love
|
| Conquest from love
|
| Spring, we do not believe, spring, frozen
|
| And we are like March cats
|
| Conquest from love
|
| Conquest from love |