Silvestrov: Silent Songs / 2. Eleven Songs - Autumn Song Lyrics
| Song | Silvestrov: Silent Songs / 2. Eleven Songs - Autumn Song |
| Artist | Valentin Silvestrov |
| Album | Silvestrov - Silent Songs |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| The golden grove dissuaded me, | |
| Speaking the merry language of the birches. | |
| And as the cranes fly passed in sadness | |
| They have no pity left for anyone. | |
| I’m standing on a barren plain. | |
| The wind is carrying the cranes away. | |
| I’m full of thoughts about my merry youth. | |
| I don’t regret a thing that’s past. | |
| I don’t regret the wasted years, | |
| Nor the lilac colour of my heart. | |
| Red rowan blazes on my garden fire, | |
| But now it cannot warm a soul. | |
| The rowan branches won’t burn up. | |
| The grass is yellowed but it isn’t dead. | |
| And, as the tree sheds leaves in silence, | |
| Just so I shed these words of sadness now. |
| The golden grove dissuaded me, | |
| Speaking the merry language of the birches. | |
| And as the cranes fly passed in sadness | |
| They have no pity left for anyone. | |
| I' m standing on a barren plain. | |
| The wind is carrying the cranes away. | |
| I' m full of thoughts about my merry youth. | |
| I don' t regret a thing that' s past. | |
| I don' t regret the wasted years, | |
| Nor the lilac colour of my heart. | |
| Red rowan blazes on my garden fire, | |
| But now it cannot warm a soul. | |
| The rowan branches won' t burn up. | |
| The grass is yellowed but it isn' t dead. | |
| And, as the tree sheds leaves in silence, | |
| Just so I shed these words of sadness now. |
| The golden grove dissuaded me, | |
| Speaking the merry language of the birches. | |
| And as the cranes fly passed in sadness | |
| They have no pity left for anyone. | |
| I' m standing on a barren plain. | |
| The wind is carrying the cranes away. | |
| I' m full of thoughts about my merry youth. | |
| I don' t regret a thing that' s past. | |
| I don' t regret the wasted years, | |
| Nor the lilac colour of my heart. | |
| Red rowan blazes on my garden fire, | |
| But now it cannot warm a soul. | |
| The rowan branches won' t burn up. | |
| The grass is yellowed but it isn' t dead. | |
| And, as the tree sheds leaves in silence, | |
| Just so I shed these words of sadness now. |
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