Not [bad word] leaf not a bird in flight
In the sleepy grove until dawn
How I love these nights, Moscow suburb nights,
The caress of the waking sun.(2) 
                    
The calm riling stream seems to ebb and flow 
Like a silver web of moonlight, 
In my heart I hear [bad word] and go 
On this wonderful summer night.(2)   
                    
Why this downcast look? Does the rising day 
Bring us near the hour when we part? 
It’s as hard to keep as to give away 
All that presses upon my heart.(2) 

Dawn is night and pale grow the amber lights;
Let me hope, my dear, that you too
Will remember these Moscow suburb nights
And our love that has been so [bad word] (2)