Windy day -
Ice on the river, December at the doorstep...
Oh, how the sky is far away, my friend!
It's taken us a long time to get here -
We don't have much distance left to cover.
Let's drink some wine - we've made it
Before the first December storms.
Your house stands boarded up, deserted.
Let's heat the brick oven, like in the old times.
Go out into the fields,
Make a fire
And bake some potatoes, like in our childhood,
Everything like in those days... Only there's no one
To call us back home when it gets dark...
And in the morning snow will cover the fields...
Oh, how calm and bright it is all around!
Their voices!
I can hear their voices beyond the river -
They are calling us...
So let us go,
Let us make haste, my friend!
To the other shore - across the first thin ice!
a translation by Artem Portnoy
