My friend went to Magadan, why, not known-
Take off your hat to him, don’t be dismayed!
He left on his own, he left on his own-
Not with convoy, stage by stage.

Not that the friend wasn’t a lucky guy,
Not that he did it to someone out of spite,
Not for the gossip sake: sort of, he is mad, -
But just like that. But just like that.

How could one decide to lose it all
Maybe, someone will say: "Makes no sense!
After all, overthere camps wall to wall,
And in them murderers, and in them murderers..."

He will reply: "Do not believe in hearsay -
There are no more there, than in Moscow, I’d say!
Then he’ll pack his suitcase and sit down
And to Magadan, and to Magadan!

This is not for me, I’m too young, -
I would’ve jump from the train at night and gone home
But I’m not going to Magadan,
Forgetting the habits, closing inverted commas.

I will sing to the sound of strings
About what I haven’t seen
About what he would see, and done, -
About Magadan. About Magadan.

All alone he would go, my friend-
Enough of him, enough of him, -
And by convoy he won’t be beaten in the camp, -
He is volunteering, he is volunteering.

But I have God given fate, under the sun...
And maybe, as well to Magadan?
To leave together with my friend -
And to lie on the bottom!...