Turystyczna - Lato z ptakami odchodzi

Summer is going away with birds.
Wind is rolling up leaves into braides,
Covering trails with carpets,
Hanging scarlet on the slopes.
I am dressing up my thought with colors
of leaves of gold, of beeches of purple;
I am burning summer memories in fire,
I am walking waving with a staff.

I am walking up to the mountains to enjoy life
To give my hair ito the hands of mountain wind.
I want to soak into the soujd of rustling leaves,
of the voices of parting birds.

I can feel salt of sweat in my mouth,
A weary day is running away..
An angel is lighting up the stars
thus illuminating human journeys.
Soon, I shall light up a fire
on an ample mountain glade,
Soon, a green hut will rise
among stately beeches.

I am walking up to the mountains to enjoy life
To give my hair ito the hands of mountain wind.
I want to soak into the soujd of rustling leaves,
of the voices of parting birds.