The Weeping of a Bride

“Oh, but forests above the Volga River are as green as emeralds,
Oh, but the warm spring winds are blowing above the arable lands…”

And she stares at the clouds gathered up far away,
knowing now that her life never will be the same,

for the boy that she loves is out of grasp, out of reach,
and the man she’s to wed – well, he is old and he’s rich.

Just the trees in the woods and the birds in the field
know how broken’s her heart that will never be healed.

And the willow that weeps and the river that flows
hear the toll of church’s bells and the call of the crows.

As a thunder breaks out, splitting the sky overhead,
the bright rainbow comes out – promise of good times ahead.

And she lifts up her face, letting tears to roll free,
rain clears off her pain, set her soul to be free.

“Oh, but forests above the Volga River are as green as emeralds,
Oh but the warm spring winds are blowing above the arable lands…”