| The wind brought to the stone city
 | 
| Bitter wormwood breath.
 | 
| And so excites the soul to tears
 | 
| An old memory.
 | 
| It's like I'm throwing my arms around,
 | 
| Grass, rain, pain, take away.
 | 
| Wind from the fields, the noise of birches
 | 
| Heal my soul.
 | 
| Wind from the fields, the noise of birches
 | 
| Heal my soul.
 | 
| There, among the Russian fields
 | 
| Breathe freely to the heart,
 | 
| There I resurrected my soul,
 | 
| Under the vault of clear skies.
 | 
| Mother, father and relatives
 | 
| They christened me there.
 | 
| Even a prayer is heard
 | 
| There among the Russian fields.
 | 
| And at the chapel, where it's cold,
 | 
| One flame is smoldering.
 | 
| I put a flower to those who have fallen for the faith,
 | 
| My modest scarlet flower.
 | 
| Everything here is holy to me to the point of pain, to tears.
 | 
| Grass, rain, pain, take away.
 | 
| Wind from the fields, the noise of birches
 | 
| Heal my soul.
 | 
| Wind from the fields, the noise of birches
 | 
| Heal my soul.
 | 
| There, among the Russian fields
 | 
| Breathe freely to the heart,
 | 
| There I resurrected my soul,
 | 
| Under the vault of clear skies.
 | 
| Mother, father and relatives
 | 
| They christened me there.
 | 
| Even a prayer is heard
 | 
| There among the Russian fields.
 | 
| Everything here is holy to me to the point of pain, to tears.
 | 
| Grass, rain, pain, take away.
 | 
| Wind from the fields, the noise of birches
 | 
| Heal my soul.
 | 
| Wind from the fields, the noise of birches
 | 
| Heal my soul.
 | 
| There, among the Russian fields
 | 
| Breathe freely to the heart,
 | 
| There I resurrected my soul,
 | 
| Under the vault of clear skies.
 | 
| Mother, father and relatives
 | 
| They christened me there.
 | 
| Even a prayer is heard
 | 
| There among the Russian fields.
 | 
| Even a prayer is heard
 | 
| There among the Russian fields. |