Why is everything wrong? Nothing would catch the eye,
It’s all the same in the finest condition:
The same wood, the same water, the same deep blue sky,
But he didn’t return from the mission.

Now I’ll never find out, what’s the use anyhow
In our disputes till into submission.
I have started to miss him just only from now,
When he didn’t return from the mission.

Well, he sang out of tune, he cut in with no wit,
He falled silent without prediction.
He had robbed me my sleep, he had two itchy feet
And then didn’t return from the mission.

There’s no talk of that void, where should be two of us,
But of something you do not envision:
Like a wind blow it put out my fire at once,
As he didn’t return from the mission.

Now the spring is let loose, all its terms to defy,
And I turned to his usual position:
’Buddy, lend me a smoke.’ And there is no reply,
Since he didn’t return from the mission.

In the danger our dead won’t hold back their aid,
Our fallen ones guard us around.
So the woods are reflecting the sky like a lake,
And the trees stand submerged to the crown.

We have shared every inch in a dugout for two
And the same stretch of time in addition.
Now that’s all left for one. But I guess, it’s me who
Has not ever returned from that mission.