Itís all behind us, the investigations and the courts, The prosecutors and the lawyers have had their day. Now I any waiting, endlessly, waiting, To hear where they will send me, to slave without pay. Oh, mother dear, let us now weep As we rack our brains, as we try to guess. Where will they send me? Where will they send me? Come to think of it, I could not care less...     Parcels to Vorkuta take a long time in getting, To Magadan deliveries are faster and better. But that place is crawling with squealers and rogues, I may not even get as much as a letter. Oh, mother dear, let us now weep As we rack our brains, as we try to guess. Where will they send me? Where will they send me? Come to think of it, I could not care less...     The doors have opened, they are here to take me, I know that soon Iíll be one my way. At least my destination has been decided. But where it is, the bastards still wonít say. Oh, mother dear, let us now weep As we rack our brains, as we try to guess. Where will they send me? Where will they send me? Come to think of it, I could not care less...     Well me have reached the edge of the world, Thank God thereís lots of tobacco in this forsaken hole, They tell us we are going farther North, Somewhere in the neighbour hood of the North Pole. Oh, Mother dear, let us now weep, As we try to guess, as our brains, we rack. Hoping to predict where exactly I shall be, And when, oh when it ever Iíll come back.    
© Misha Allen. Translation, 1983