В небе туча хмурится

A cloud frowns in the sky,
the thunder will strike soon.
The rain will walk on the street
with a tin bucket.
 
Droplets of water
will knock on the bottom.
The flowers will elongate
their thin necks.
 
The porch will sing
as turtledove, as oriole.
The willow basket's
face is wet.
 
The sun will dry the tears.
It will become clear that
this is the spring came to us
in an embroidered dress.

When the twilight will come
and crescent will start to float.
The silence will come
out of the fog in it's shoes.

The light will light
at the cat's under the ladder.
It's a shame that our song
has no continuation.