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Одинокая гармонь (Lonely Accordeon)
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Again everything has died down till dawn,
The door doesn't squeak, the fire doesn't flare.
All that's heard, somewhere out on the street,
Are the meanderings of a lonely accordion.
First in the fields, then beyond the gates,
Then it returns this way again --
As if in search of someone there,
But unable to search them out.
A chill blows in from the fields,
The apple tree blooms thick with blossoms...
Speak out -- for whom are you searching?
For whom, young accordionist?
Maybe your happiness is not far off,
It's just she doesn't know it's for her that you're waiting...
That you walk alone the whole night through,
That you keep all the girls from sleeping?
The door doesn't squeak, the fire doesn't flare.
All that's heard, somewhere out on the street,
Are the meanderings of a lonely accordion.
First in the fields, then beyond the gates,
Then it returns this way again --
As if in search of someone there,
But unable to search them out.
A chill blows in from the fields,
The apple tree blooms thick with blossoms...
Speak out -- for whom are you searching?
For whom, young accordionist?
Maybe your happiness is not far off,
It's just she doesn't know it's for her that you're waiting...
That you walk alone the whole night through,
That you keep all the girls from sleeping?