So it happened - our men left for good,
They abandoned their crops before reaping.
They no longer are seen through the windows,
They dissolved in the dust of the route.

Heavy grains from the ears now are flowing,
Those are tears of unharvested fields.
And the freezing wind drafts are a-blowing,
Finding ways through the slits.

We are waiting for you - spur your steeds!
Happy trails, happy trails, happy trails!
Let the tailwinds not beat you but rather compel you to hurry.
Then return, please return from your deeds!
Willows whisper your names,
And, deprived of your smiles, rowan trees pale and wither too early.

We all live in the towers so great,
No one ever will enter our mansion,
But aloneness and anticipation
Took your place in our quarters of late.

The fresh whiteness of shirts no one’s donning
Lost for us their aesthetic appeal;
Even songs that we sang now are boring,
They are stuck in our teeth.

We are waiting for you - spur your steeds!
Happy trails, happy trails, happy trails!
Let the tailwinds not beat you but rather compel you to hurry.
Then return, please return from your deeds!
Willows whisper your names,
And, deprived of your smiles, rowan trees pale and wither too early.

But it hurts everyday with one pain,
As the sounds of age-long lamentations
Promptly echo the old invocations
And repeat them again and again.

We will meet you, both footmen and riders,
Battle-weary, disabled - the lot.
Only never to meet notifiers,
Not to read what they brought.

We are waiting for you - spur your steeds!
Happy trails, happy trails, happy trails!
Let the tailwinds not beat you but rather compel you to hurry.
Then return, please return from your deeds!
Willows whisper your names,
And, deprived of your smiles, rowan trees pale and wither too early.