I am a roaming and torn pine tree
I am roaming
through the summer, the autumn, the winter, the spring
sometimes I face the sky with my upper branches
and worried kneel on a root
I am a roaming and torn pine tree
I am roaming
through the summer, the autumn, the winter, the spring
sometimes I face the sky with my upper branches
and worried kneel on a root
There are many of us, pines, in the woods
There are many of us
I share my tear with the others if I can
There are pines which do not bow down to the wind,
but my trunk is weak - the wind can overturn it with its hand
The wind is coming...
I am a roaming and torn pine tree
I am roaming
through the summer, the autumn, the winter, the spring
sometimes I face the sky with my upper branches
and worried kneel on a root
I am a roaming and torn pine tree
I am roaming
through the summer, the autumn, the winter, the spring
When the wind raises its fists, my heart will flutter
My ichor will leak down my bark
The wind is coming and you can't parley with it
The wind is coming...
There shall not be left here one leaf upon another
The wind will bury me so deep, nobody will ever find me
There used to be a pine always torn in a half
The wind knocked its trunk over and wrote "namby-pamby" in it
A storm will howl and tear the world into pieces
Who will remember me and my branches
Thunders will strike, the world will come to an end
who will notice me or my disappearance
There are pines which don't mind the wind
but my branches are prone to its gusts
There are pines with strong souls
but this wind is somewhat foreign
The wind is coming...
I am a roaming and torn pine tree
I am roaming
through the summer, the autumn, the winter, the spring
sometimes I face the sky with my upper branches
and worried kneel on a root
I am a roaming and torn pine tree
I am roaming
through the summer, the autumn, the winter, the spring
I am a roaming and torn pine tree I am roaming through the summer, the autumn, the winter, the spring sometimes I face the sky with my upper branches and worried kneel on a root
I am a roaming and torn pine tree I am roaming through the summer, the autumn, the winter, the spring sometimes I face the sky with my upper branches and worried kneel on a root
There are many of us, pines, in the woods There are many of us I share my tear with the others if I can There are pines which do not bow down to the wind, but my trunk is weak - the wind can overturn it with its hand
The wind is coming...
I am a roaming and torn pine tree I am roaming through the summer, the autumn, the winter, the spring sometimes I face the sky with my upper branches and worried kneel on a root
I am a roaming and torn pine tree I am roaming through the summer, the autumn, the winter, the spring
When the wind raises its fists, my heart will flutter My ichor will leak down my bark The wind is coming and you can't parley with it The wind is coming...
There shall not be left here one leaf upon another The wind will bury me so deep, nobody will ever find me There used to be a pine always torn in a half The wind knocked its trunk over and wrote "namby-pamby" in it
A storm will howl and tear the world into pieces Who will remember me and my branches Thunders will strike, the world will come to an end who will notice me or my disappearance
There are pines which don't mind the wind but my branches are prone to its gusts There are pines with strong souls but this wind is somewhat foreign
The wind is coming...
I am a roaming and torn pine tree I am roaming through the summer, the autumn, the winter, the spring sometimes I face the sky with my upper branches and worried kneel on a root
I am a roaming and torn pine tree I am roaming through the summer, the autumn, the winter, the spring