Мои Года [Moi Goda] [English translation]

Well, even if my head is gray,

No point to be afraid of winter.

It's not just burden, my old age,

My years are my wealth that won't wither.

So, even if my head is gray,

It's not just burden, my old age,

My years are my wealth that won't wither.

I often hurried time in vain,

I'm used to being involved in all things,

Although I had no money saved,

My years're my only wealth among things.

I often hurried time in vain,

Although I had no money saved,

My years're my only wealth among things.

I whisper "thank you" to the years,

Their bitter medicine I'm drinking.

And to no one I'll give away

My years, my only wealth among things.

I whisper "thank you" to the years,

And to no one I'll give away

My years, my only wealth among things.

And if the centuries tell me:

Alas, your star's already faded.

A hand of child will pick my years,

My years're my wealth, I'm now persuaded.

Someday, I'm sure, when snowstorm clears

A hand of child will pick my years,

My years're my wealth, I'm now persuaded.

• Artist:Vakhtang Kikabidze