The moon is over my window.

The moon is over my window

The wind is under the window

The whole naked poplar tree has taken on an avro-bright color;

Far away cry in accordion, distant voice alone

So far though, or, to my heart.

The song is crying, the song is laughing

Where is my lemon tree, at least for centuries?

In the past I was also anxious there

You have to wake up in the morning to spread the accordion

But today I do not have my beautiful eyes

So laughing, crying at the bottom of the song, in an unfamiliar tune.

Moonlit night

Will become a moon

A small moon

Right now.

And this time a full moon

Hanging in the air.

He must be God

Its wonderful

With a silver spoon

Taravara fish

Picking up the soup.