На плато Расвумчорр [Na plato Rasvumchorr] [English translation]

On the Mount Rasvumchórr1every spring comes too late,

On the Mount Rasvumchórr always snowing and gales,

And the winter will stay, and the winds will not stop,

For eighteen stubborn men long three weeks of harsh storms.

We are sitting together; tobacco – first-class;

In one hour, we will climb to the roof of Khibíns,

We will break though the wail, we will wade through the dark,

And our heads will be cursed by the blizzard’s last spin.

But for now, we just sit at a simple board desk,

Our mechanic enjoys Dukát brand cigarettes,

That were brought through the storm from a different land,

That survived in the pockets of [the] Moscovite's vest.

He is sitting with us, thinking thoughts of his chores,

My beloved mechanic, a boss of the roads.

In one hour he will fight with the Mount Rasvumchórr,

He will be right in front for the tractor's escort. [x2]

That’s because of the road that brews troubles ahead,

Where bulldozers would need every man for support.

That’s because of that place, where spring comes too late,

On the back of Khibíns, on the Mount Rasvumchórr. [x2]

Up to this very day, up to this very hour,

We are healthy as devils, with plenty supplies;

We are ready to help any friend who is out,

We are not sitting idly and wasting our lives. [x2]

The eighteen burly men all are moving in front,

They are bandaged with snow and are worn out with doom;

The eighteen separations, the eighteen solemn woes,

The eighteen lasting hopes for the dawn colored blue.

What girls' dreams are about, what girls' minds do create?

If it’s snow and remoteness, then it isn’t a dream,

On the Mount Rasvumchórr every spring comes too late

We’re walking through blizzard, a hope we will bring. [x2]

1. please see Author's comments