"Белой акации гроздья душистые"

[Marborol]

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A nightingale sang us from a birch canted,
The city was quite and the buildings seemed dead,
Acacia's bunches were white and sweet-sented,
All the night through they were driving us mad!

The garden was washed by a downpour heavy,
All the ravines just resembled a fen!
Godd bless us! How that night we were happy,
God bless us! How naive we were then!

The years quickly rushed, made us all grey like sinter
Where the bunches once fresh and alive?
Only a white snow storm and the winter
Sometimes remind us of the former life!

On a day when the wind brakes empty branches
I feel myself absolutely alone,
I understand - the acacia's bunches
Are irremiable like my youth gone!
I understand - the acacia's bunches
Are unrepeatable like my youth gone!