You left yesterday, for a week or so;
I don’t miss you, though, in the least -
For I’m now in transit to Bodaibo,
In a cattle car headed East.

You won’t weep for me, you won’t call my folks,
But, my dear, I don’t give a damn -
For the next ten years I’ll be pounding rocks,
Mining gold for our Motherland.

Now the wheels have stopped, and at last I’m here,
No more tracks or ties, only turf...
I would like to cry, but I have no tears,
There are no more tears left on Earth.

You don’t have to wait, you don’t have to mourn,
Don’t be sad that I’m in the can;
Just remember, now and forevermore:
God forbid our paths cross again.

I will tough it out till my term expires,
I’ll come out alive - that, I’ll bet!
But as I sleep on plank-beds behind barbed wire,
I will try my best to forget.

Here, the cold is bad and the wind is worse,
And blue forests are my only views...
At my back are six thousand kilometers,
And ahead - ten years of the blues.