Little house with light blue shutters,
I will never forget you, no way!
All these years that have gone with the shadows
Seemed so recent and not far away.
Up to now I've been dreaming about
Our fields, woods and clouds on high
Under cover of grey cotton shroud
Of this poor oldnorthern sky.
Though I cannot admire, however,
I don't want to get lost at all.
I suppose, I've got now and for ever
Dismal warmth of the Russian soul.
I am fond of the silver cranes
Flying over I don't know where,
For they haven't seen in these plains
Ample harvest of grain, as it were.
They have seen the blossom of trees,
Brittle willows, all curved and bare,
They have heard the whistles of thieves
That arouse such terrible scare.
So I cannot help caring about
You, my land, and it's quite unconscious.
Under cover of cheap cotton shroud
I adore you with deepest emotions.
Thus appearing like recent shadows
Bygone years, they still hover to-day...
Little house with light blue shutters,
I will never forget you, no way!