The Padrting by Мikhail Matusovsky

The distant fires are burning bright.

The moon is bathing in the rivers nulla

And the fellow  is saying goodbye  

To his sweet girl on a small bench settle

The guy's honest eyes are clear

Like burning coals flammable,

Perhaps not enough very  fair,

But all in all they are suitable.

He is trying with all his souls

To slow down the untimely parting,

Looking for a tender word all,

He sits, heartfelt, suffering.

Looking for a tender word,

He  sits, heartfelt, suffering. hopeless

The loud-voiced, girls sing sad songs,

Sang away all their songs of sadness

Only heartfelt sore lsighs

Are heard on the wood bench.

Only heartfelt sore sign

Are heard on the wood bench.