Серебро господа моего [Serebro gospoda moego] [English translation]

Lo, a bright arrow hit me,

Now no one will heal me.

I'm struck in my heart -

What else could have I wished for?

It seems that the night is kind,

It seems that a path still exists,

[The] straight old path, the path of our love.

And yet we are mute,

Yet we still reckon and wait;

Of ourselves we still sing,

We can sing of nothing else.

It seems there is something amiss,

[All] colors seem so pale to me,

't seems that again we're lacking you, lacking just you:

Silver of my Good Lord, my Good Lord, Silver of my Good Lord,

Could I have known the right words, words I could say about you?

Silver of my Good Lord, higher than stars and words,

It's so high in the sky that it can touch our grief.

And like an old village [black] smith,

I'll leave at [the] twilight hour.

To follow me there

But no one will ever dare.

Perhaps I've been deaf and blind,

Or maybe it ain't true at all,

Yet I know what awaits me when my path is nearing [its] end.

[Chorus]