In An August's Evening
Cheerful evening is drinking
August’s vine,
Warm wind has turned into a musician.
He dances above the rooftops.
He put on a cap with a dog-rose flower,
smoothed a curly forelock,
And started to play on an accordion.
The sounds float
from village to fields and forests.
here were meetings and partings,
at the blue rivers and in dense forests,
Joy and sadness of Russia –
in this lovely song,
Which flew away by bird above clouds.
But it will come back to us
in one of winter nights
sometime.
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