Mihael Gudovskih — Скажи, цыганка

Tell me, gypsy girl — what lies ahead for me? Where is my road — in light or in shade? Tell me, gypsy girl, looking at my palm: how long must I wander among foreign lands? How much must I lose and find again? How much must I pay fate for my mistakes?

Sleepless nights and cold through the soul, words on the wind — like sparks in the fire. I smile, but winter is in my eyes. Tell me, gypsy girl — where is she herself?

Tell me, gypsy girl, give me fate [?]: will there be love — or will I walk away? Cards on the table, a candle trembles in the dark — what has been foretold about me? Tell me, gypsy girl, through the campfire smoke: where is my happiness, where is my spring? If everything was long ago decided by fate — why is it so hard to be myself?

You say the road will be long, but at its end spring will dawn [?]. You say I’ll meet my harbor, though I’ve lost it many times. I believe little — life has taught me how many times hope has let me down.

But if the truth is in your eyes — let there be happiness for two. Tell me, gypsy girl, don’t deceive me: is there peace for my soul?

Tell me, gypsy girl, give me fate [?]: will there be love — or will I walk away? Cards on the table, a candle trembles in the dark — what has been foretold about me? Tell me, gypsy girl, through the campfire smoke: where is my happiness, where is my spring? If everything was long ago decided by fate — why is it so hard to be myself?