You have left for a short time,
God beware - that we meet again, -
But I have a freight-train - to the east,
And a mine in Bodaibo.
You are not going to cry and not going to wait,
You are not going to visit my relatives, -
Now I spit on it - I shall be hauling here
Gold for the country.
Everything is ending: Ceased have the noises of the wheels,
The sleepers are ending, the rails not...
Alas, itís now to wail for woe! Itís a pity there are no tears
The tears endet after seven years.
Donít await me, agreed, god be with you, -
And if itís difficult for me - donít be sorry.
Just remember - god beware you that
Our paths crossing again!
The stretch of time has ended - Iíll endure
And Iím given freedom anyway, -
But until then I shall sleep on the plank-bed in the zone, -
I shall endeavour to forget everything.
There the woods all around bend in the wind,
The blueness all around - what not to do!
Behind - seventhousand kilometres,
Ahead - seven years of blueness...