The day we allied with the land’s support,
Over high waters, salty and ours,
Sailing out at the appointed hour, -
The sea will start rocking us,
As mother does with restless babies.

The waves will struggle to - and in sweat
Will leave their cuts on the sides of our ship,
In their patience, the machines will initiate
The months’ composition of rhythmic seconds.

As far as eyes can see - smooth waters, - a bliss!
And for long miles around - not a single soul!..
This is why the seamen are having tough times to cope
With falling asleep at home’s muttering peace after rockings.

Our workdays - of no holidays, of no weekends, -
Plenty of obstructions is enough in the sea even without these
We are fading out of memories of our girlfriends:
Them - before us, yet we often don’t have a spare hour, -
So let them forgive us this sin!

No, it’s not true! Constantly sighing of them near the stern
And secretly mumbling their names in our sleep.
Here, we’re not chasing skirt, not at all
Nor for the happiness, but for a shoal.

As far as eyes can see - smooth waters, - a bliss!
There are no fences, no walls - plow or dance, if you wish!
This is why the seamen are having tough times coping
With falling asleep at a comforting silence.

The talks are, we are sailing for a long banknotes, -
Speaking of, the long ones are not simple to fetch, -
Yet we’re at the seas - swimming after the sea,
And in a search for - that single day,
Which we will never forget.

And when out of the other, stranger spring
We’ll in a hurry arrive right to motherland’s pier
The homeland’s sea gates will dissolve
Before its every sailor.

In the sea - smooth waters, adding up with - a bliss,
No news - none of these, no matter how much is written for us ...
This is why the seamen are having tough times coping
With falling asleep at a comforting silence.

And sailing out again, engaging with land -
With most loyal of our brides, -
To return to the promised hour,
Whichever the sea’s lullabies
Sea - is a mother of troublesome kids.

The beacon forgot to give us a wink with a light from its height,
Only staring at us - has gone off with its head:
It has seen that the trawler has gone on the full throttle sway.
Engaging to full speed.

And staying on pier - all in all it’s a bliss, -
And rocking on the land, and singing til soul breaks.
For us, the returned, we are used to cope,
After sounding storms, with the long-awaited peace.