The sadness of the autumn 
Is turning into rain
November's ice in water
Will freeze my blinding pain

Like cross in time-worn churchyard 
The limb of old birch sticks
The wind is blowing madly
And moaning like a weak 

November sadness begins my way
My deepen madness will stay the same

And there am I, as a colourless autumn
Will be leaving to my mystic land
And my steps will freeze deep, till the very bottom..
Maybe left in this frozen pond

Только в песне нет последнего куплета)