Into cold, into cold
From our old cozy nests
Other cities are beckoning us,
Whether Minsk or it’s Brest, -
Into cold, into cold...

Not for nothing it seems
From the hometown trees
These harsh places are beckoning us,
As if they are more fun, -
Not for nothing it seems...

Although home keeps us warm,
We still lack every time
New encounters and new faithful friends,
As if we’re in distress,
And it’s warmer with them...

And no matter how well
Sometimes we feel afar,
We still keep coming back home to bear.
Where is then our star?
Maybe here, maybe there...