Так пела метель

In murky waters, where reeds echo the wind whispering about death
The mournful willow bends its branches deep into the blackened depths
Everything is frozen in this never-ending whirlpool
The season of cold is approaching, and the blizzards hurry behind

Snow falls on the cold shore
All living things are frozen in sleep
The era of full-flowing rivers
Has ended here under the ice

Frost adorns the dead grass in the morning with delicate patterns
Covering them in a brown blanket to decay until spring
Singing birds fly south from the frozen forever grove
Leaving nests in the captivity of silence

Among the roots of mighty trees, bones whiten
Traces of fangs are visible in the remains of flesh
The deadly dance of winter holds neither rage nor malice
A peaceful sleep in the grip of the enticing veil of cold chains

In the midst of frozen fields, I hear a sound
A mournful hymn of great losses and long separations
Forget how April warms with the spring sun
Chill amidst snow and ice, so sang the blizzard

Sing the song of gray hills embraced by blizzards
Light the path with the fire of cold northern stars
Praise death, let the bony old woman
Put all living things to sleep among the birches until spring
So sang the blizzard