All the ships that were docked now are back on their track,
They will have to return; through the storm they will steer.
Half a year will pass, and I will come back,
But I’ll leave once again for another half-year.

Everyone will return except friends we have lost,
Except our most beloved, unwavering women,
Everyone will return except those we need most.
I have no faith in fate, in myself - very little.

But I want to believe that it’s not as it seems,
That the ship-burning fashion will soon disappear.
And of course, I’ll be back, with new friendships and dreams.
And I’ll sing you a song in another half-year.