A ruginit frunza din vii

The leaf from the vines has rusted

The leaf from the vines has rusted
And the swallows left,
Deserts are fields and plains
The boys are the village hores.

When the violet will bloom
And the swallow will arrive,
Then it will grow again, in the vaults,
The leaf of the stumps of the vines.

And when with flowers and mown hay
Summer will pass on the plains,
The chains would be in gold
And hora-n village-you cheer us up.