Summer has picked up the colors, Do you want yellow, do you want red And green, to wander through the alleys. Midnight blue, gray And the farthest white, Clouds-nomads to catch. Hop, la-la-la… Summer has picked up the threads, What came out - look And you will understand what needs to be understood. Along the orange boulevards, On the sleeping sidewalks To look for nomadic clouds. Hop, la-la-la… Summer has picked up the colors, It was just like in a fairy tale, It happened to us, so it can't be repeated. The wind suddenly takes the leaves away And autumn knocks on the windows, And he calls to wash off the paint with him.