Текст песни Людмила Зыкина - Волжанка

Over the water birches, Christmas trees,
Smoke of a fire ...
Good in the spring on the Volga
Golden evenings.

At sunset the clouds melt,
The clouds are pink all the time.
Everything from the sun is golden,
You're on a boat sailing.

If you jokingly asked,
I would have answered seriously,
That there is no more beautiful in the world
Golden your hair.

I do not see them all day.
You come, but regret it.
Come out, come out
You're on shore as soon as possible.

I'll look into the eyes of the Volzhanka,
A gentle word I will name,
Under a birch in a clearing
We'll sit next to the grass.

The nightingale sang, clicked,
Lean against my chest ...
Oh, you, the night over the Volga,
Wait, do not go through.

1956