Давно ли цвел зеленый дол
Лес шелестел листвой, 
И каждый лист был свеж и чист 
От влаги дождевой.

Где этот летний рай?
Лестная глушь мертва.
Но снова май придет в наш край
И зашумит листва.

Но ни весной, ни в летний зной
С себя я не стряхну 
Тяжелый след прошедших лет, 
Печаль и седину.

Под старость краток день,
А ночь без сна длинна.
И дважды в год к нам не придет
Счастливая весна.

The Winter Of Life (Burns Original)
1794

But lately seen in gladsome green, 
The woods rejoic'd the day, 
Thro' gentle showers, the laughing flowers 
In double pride were [bad word]  
But now our joys are fled 
On winter blasts awa; 
Yet maiden May, in rich array, 
Again shall bring them a'. 

But my white pow, nae kindly thowe 
Shall melt the snaws of Age; 
My [bad word] of eild, but buss or beild, 
Sinks in Time's wintry rage. 
Oh, Age has weary days, 
And nights o' sleepless pain: 
Thou golden time, o' Youthfu' prime,  [bad word] thou not again!

The Winter Of Life (Standard English Translation)

But lately seen in beautiful green,
The woods rejoiced the day;
Through gentle showers the laughing flowers
In double pride were [bad word] 
But now our joys are fled
On winter blasts away,
Yet maiden May in rich array
Again shall bring them all.

But my white head - no kindly thaw
Shall melt the snows of Age!
My [bad word] of old age, without bush and shelter,
Sinks in Time's wintry rage.
O, Age has weary days
And nights of sleepless pain!
You golden time of youthful prime, [bad word] you not again?