| Goodbye, mother, let me report: I'm leaving tomorrow morning for the ocean. | 
| Goodbye, mother, let me put your photo with your father in my pocket. | 
| Sorry, mother, that I say goodbye in a hurry, the order was given to serve my native country. | 
| And the division commander - he will not tell everything in verse, even at night in bed to his wife. | 
| Chorus: | 
| On command, the stern was given, gulls and cormorants over the wave. | 
| The Earth's ball will meet us with depth behind the Ara-lip. | 
| The nuclear boat is my home, I will go out on the undercarriage for the last time. | 
| We will lift the hatch over our heads behind the Ara-lip. | 
| Goodbye, mother, let me report: in the Voentorg there is a suit that can fit me. | 
| When I return from autonomy, I will hardly live with you, because I want to get married. | 
| Chorus: | 
| In the meantime, in the blue, I'm on a combat watch, | 
| Our business is to live with one pipe behind Ara-lip. | 
| Doctor, mother, uniformed hero, he will put the dead in line. | 
| By the way, mom, they feed for slaughter for Ara-lip. | 
| Goodbye, mother, let me report: in the locker is my three-month salary. | 
| It is unlikely that it will be enough for you to live until the Trinity, but before Easter it will come down in order. | 
| Chorus: | 
| The boatswain paints the eggs under water, the combat alarm is set aside, | 
| The cowboy smokes his Marlboro for Ara-lip. | 
| Nicholas the saint, our saint, patron of all the fate of the sea, | 
| Be with us. | 
| And we are always with you behind Ara-lip. |