Ships will linger awhile, plan their voyage, and sail.
And though the weather is foul, they will soon reappear.
Half-a-year will not pass, and Iíll return without fail,
Just to set out again, just to sail again half-a-year.
Everybody comes back, only dear friends get lost,
And the faithful women with whom we were blessed,
Everybody returns, but the ones we need most,
I believe not in fate, in myself - even less.
I would like to believe all is not how it seems,
That the burning of ships is a craze that canít last.
I will surely return, full of friends, full of dreams,
I will soon sing again - half-a-year will not pass.