Don`t look in my face, set my palm free, br Don`t touch my memory, not any longer, br Gold of church rings has burned the ring finger, br Now that I`ve taken it off, I`m again me... br Gold of leaves always means the coming Winter. br br Gold of leaves will be whirling above my head, br Gold of love once we`ve shared now is dead, br Gold of love that was changed on coppers, br Made paupers your current friends. br br Maybe now, at December threshold br We shall get in vain, all that`s happened br You seemed to be made of gold, my real tressure, br But rains of treasons washed off the golden spatter, br So where are you now, the one I knew before? br br Gold of leaves will be whirling above my head, br Gold of love once we`ve shared now is dead, br Gold of love that was changed on coppers, br Made paupers your current friends. br br br A song, translated from Russian.