In the Russian village by the small pond
My Chatschele stood, lonely, alone.
I will long for you and always think of you
Because you were my rodzne, my homeland
Marushka Rosia I long so much for you
For the birch tree, for Chatschele, for the green wood.
Like I long for the Russian songs
For the sweet sisters and brothers
For Russian people, who are genuine.
For Russian people, who are more precious than money.
And a storm that has been unleashed on the world
People like Chakes one after the other
Melkhume, the Not, ordered to k**
And burned und crushed money and forests.
My Chatschele is burned. I no longer
Have a homeland. Now I am [illegible]
And now I sing for you: Ref Matu [...]