Winter has come. I shout hurray!
And I’m a little timid myself.
Its about to get cold,
and it’s a pity I don’t have a fur coat.
Well, when the frost hits your nose,
the roads will be covered with snowstorms,
Will the melancholy really set in?
Are you going to surrender to idleness?
But no, I’ll say idlely: no!
Ill open a box of paints,
and I will paint a portrait of winter;
snowy hill with birches.
And I’m a little timid myself.
Its about to get cold,
and it’s a pity I don’t have a fur coat.
Well, when the frost hits your nose,
the roads will be covered with snowstorms,
Will the melancholy really set in?
Are you going to surrender to idleness?
But no, I’ll say idlely: no!
Ill open a box of paints,
and I will paint a portrait of winter;
snowy hill with birches.