В лесу was born the ёлочка...
Early in the spring
By a fir-tree all green,
Vanyusha’s bidding farewell to his love.
Clad in a shirt of mail,
He’s saying to his gal:
“Don’t cry, Marusya, don’t cry, my dove”...
Аж спел два раза!
By a fir-tree all green,
Vanyusha’s bidding farewell to his love.
Clad in a shirt of mail,
He’s saying to his gal:
“Don’t cry, Marusya, don’t cry, my dove”...
Аж спел два раза!