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And Again In February

And again in February I recollect you.

I write poems for you.

Happy days of February are short.

February only has had time 

To drink a glass of wine

And to hug the new girlfriend,

But already the pipe calls him: «It is time! 

Get on the road!»

And February again rides on a horse.

There, ahead, are only woods and a snowy distance,

Ahead, there is no love

And there is no home.

Ah, poor, lovely February,

I very much regret you,

Probably, I would divide with you your destiny.

But he has already dashed away, 

Has covered up his traces with snows 

He has sent me only greetings from blizzards!

I recollect you, I write poems for you

But I even do not want

To dream of you today.

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