A comrade flies to a distant land,
And native winds fly after him.
Beloved town melts in a blue haze
A familiar house, a green garden and a gentle look.
Comrade will pass all battles and wars,
Not knowing sleep, not knowing silence.
The beloved town can sleep well
And dream, and be green in the spring.
When my comrade will return home
The native winds will fly after him.
The beloved town will smile at him,
The familiar house, the green garden and the happy look.