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Grustī-toska, starinnye napevy, Balalajki zvonkaja struna, Pesnī tajgi, tchto matushka mne pela, Serdce mne zabrala na vsegda. Volīnye stepi i lesa gustye Prizrakom vstajut peredo mnoj. Bystrye reki, berega krutye Mne byvaloj bleshchut krasotoj. Grustī-toska, surovye morozy, Pesni vjugi za moim oknom... Grustī-toska - i ledenejut sljozy O moih vseh dumah o bylom. Vse metchty zovut v kraja rodnye Svetloj i daljokoj junosti mojej. Raz uvidetī domiki prostye, Pogljadetī na blizkih mne ljudej! Aaah, grustī-toska, zabytye napevy, Balalajki tonīkaja struna ! |
Longing and the ancient tunes, The sounding string of the balalajka And the song of the Tajga, which my mother used to sing for me Have occupied my heart forever. The free steppe and dense forests Stand up in front of me like visions. Fast rivers and steep shores Are shining to me in past beauty. Longing and stern frosts, The songs of the blizzard out of my window... Longing - and the tears are freezing to ice About all my thoughts about the past. All dreams are calling me to the familiar regions Of my bright and distant childhood. Only once see the simple houses again And see the people who where close to me! Longing and forgotten tunes And the thin string of the balalajka... |
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