Piruparka [English translation]

When I was born to a grey morning

A raven croaked in a tree

I never saw my mother

She died toward evening

Father lifted me into his arms

And looked at his little child

It would have been better, poor devil,

If you had gone with your mother

Hunger, misery as my company

I grew into a young man

Like my father, I too

Grabbed a mattock

Then the old man got sick

And died painfully

Last words, poor devil,

Don't bother to mourn

Through wind, flurry too

With head held high I go

Without father, mother

I close my sorrows into my soul

I'm not afraid of the last day

I'm not afraid of death

But with a smiling face this poor devil

Leaves eventually