Flowers sing – bells
Din-don … Din-don …
Din-don … Din-don …
Our cheerful ringing is not heard
Not a cowgirl on a meadow
He plays the horn himself …
Not two friends at the pond,
Water splashes out loud …
Not to the tractor driver in the fields,
Not a flock of jackdaws in poplars …
Everyone is busy with something else,
They don’t listen to us ringing …
Only Morning listens to our ringing
And our singing under Din-don …
Din-don … Din-don …
Din-don … Din-don …
Pesnya tsvetov – kolokol'chikov
Din'-don … Din'-don … Din'-don …
Din'-don … Ne slyshen nash vesolyy zvon,
Ni pastushonku na luzhke,
On sam igrayet na rozhke …
Ni dvum podruzhkam u pruda,
Tam gromko pleshchetsya voda …
Ni traktoristu na polyakh,
Ni staye galok v topolyakh …
Vse chem-to zanyaty drugim,
Ne slushayut, kak my zvenim …
Lish' Utro slushayet nash zvon
I nashe pen'ye pod Din'-don …
Din'-don … Din'-don …
Din'-don … Din'-don …
White daisies opened their flowers and stared into the sky at the Morning Dawn and in anticipation of the first morning rays of the Sun.
Tall, slender white birches, brightly greener after the predawn fog, as if frozen under the scarlet canopy of the Morning Dawn. And the nightingale on the birch branch ceased to whistle loudly, only softly clicked, welcome the coming of the morning, the Morning Dawn and waiting for the Sun to rise. Only tender bells, their flowers, greet the Morning Dawn a gentle song chime, heard only by nature …:
Flowers sing – bells
Din-don …
Din-don …
Our cheerful ringing is not heard
Not a cowgirl on a meadow
He plays the horn himself …
Not two friends at the pond,
Water splashes out loud …
Not to the tractor driver in the fields,
Not a flock of jackdaws in poplars …
Everyone is busy with something else,
They don’t listen to us ringing …
Only Morning listens to our ringing
And our singing under Din-don …
Din-don …
Din-don …
Pesnya tsvetov – kolokol'chikov