Shagane, Dear My, Shagane!

Shagane, dear my, Shagane! It's because I'm from North, isn't it, I am ready to tell you a field, Wavy rye, when the Moon shining there. Shagane, dear my, Shagane. It's because I'm from North, isn't it, Where the Moon has enormous size, And despite all the charm of Shiraz, Ryazan spaces are better a bit. It's because I'm from North, isn't it. I am ready to tell you a field, Curly hair I got from a rye, If you like, reel on finger in round - There is no pain I actually feel. I am ready to tell you a field. Wavy rye, when the Moon shining there, See in waves of my hair. Oh darling, Just make jokes, be so funny and smiling, That I wouldn't remember again Wavy rye, when the Moon shining there. Shagane, dear my, Shagane! Far away on the North is a girl, She is similar to you with all, And I wonder if she thinks of me... Shagane, dear my, Shagane.