This is a personal share for my family. A Ukrainian translation was asked by my youngest son, which has reasons I’m not going to share publicly. As I was busy translating, I decided it was only obvious to also do an English translation and share it here. So, here it is. Also, I am sharing the Russian transcript as well, seeing as it’s nowhere else shared at this moment. For full clarity, the video was originally made in Sumy, Ukraine.

As a side note, there’s factually said “blagovest”. There’s no official English word for this, hence the choice of jingle as it simply came closest to the factual meaning. (The term “gospel” is too often misunderstood, as I have noticed in my 6 years of translating…)

Subtitled video

Russian transcript

Туч беспокойных череда
Под лунным садом.
Я растерял свои года
С тобою рядом.
А с нами вечер при свече,
В кофейне угол.
Твоей рукою на плече
Я перепуган.

Лепниной правит потолок
Разбегом линий.
А на щеке горит цветок
Тигровых лилий.
Печально-пепельных волос
Ночная пряжа.
Угаданный незваный гость –
Твоя пропажа.

Под разговоры ни о чём,
О том, что завтра,
Как улицу, пересечём
Черту азарта.
Ничем ответить не могу,
Скажи на милость,
Когда мгновение у губ
Остановилось.

И отраженье за окном
Излишне вешнее.
Я, как запискою, влеком
Тоскою здешней.
Жизнь невпопад, наперекрест
Была? Не знаю.
Не снегопад, а благовест,
Ключи от рая.

English translation

A series of restless clouds
Beneath the moonlit garden.
I’ve lost my years
With you by my side.
And with us an evening by candlelight,
In a coffee shop’s corner
With your hand on my shoulder
I’m frightened.
The stucco ceiling rules
With lines that run up and down.
And on my cheek, a glowing blossom of
tiger lilies
A sad, mingled hair.
The night’s yarn.
A guessed intruder
Your missing person.
To talk of nothing,
About what’s to come tomorrow,
Like a street, we’ll cross
The line of excitement.
There’s nothing I can say,
Say, my goodness,
When did the moment at my lips
end?
And the reflection outside the window
Is excessive in the spring.
I am drawn, like a note,
by the longing of this place.
Life was not in the right way, crosswise.
Was it? I know not.
Not a snowfall, but a jingle,
The keys to paradise.