Иван Роса - Минуты - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Minutes

In moments of capricious weakness, when melancholy, like a black, viscous lump, settles deep in the soul and evening weeps outside the window.

When there is no strength for life or death, the mortal spirit is weak and autumn is near.

As always, I can only pray quietly for consolation.

And it comes, a bright dream, like a noble deliverer, and plunges the world, erasing it, into a new world, a carefree abode.

Where, as a child, I run through the dandelion-yellow expanse.

And I hold summer in my hands, the forest and the mountains colored by clouds...