Through wild steppes of the Zabaikalje, * - Zabaikalje - the region to the east of lake Baikal
Where gold's from hard rocks washed away,
A vagrant, who was cursing his fate,
Was dragging himself with a bag.
For thruth he has suffered in prison,
Escaped from that place at dark night.
And turned so weak and got illness -
Before him he saw Lake Baikal.
The vagrant had come to Baikal Lake,
And takes a fisher's boat to sail,
He starts singing loudly song sad
About beloved native land.
The vagrant had crossed vast Baikal soon,
And mother he sees in front of him:
"Oh mother, my dear, how do you do?
How brer's health? How dad does now feel?"
"Your father is long ago buried,
He is lying in raw earth for long,
And your brother is in Siberia
Is ringing with handcuffs till now... "