Triste destino

I return defeated from the tragic Siberia,
The wounded soul and the frozen heart,
Yoke of whip by law
Hunger and pain, cruel code
My withered flesh they have lacerated.
 
I walk the streets of Moscow, sad and wandering
I cannot see because the snow has blinded me,
A cross is left of my sweet home
My eyes weep now without light
Before the merciless fate.
 
Vodka I will drink
Vodka, until I kill,
The cruel and cursed cold
That stuns me like a scream
Of black abysmal spectre.
Vodka, pour me
Vodka, please,
Hungry wolves prowl around.
Their howls today I feel them
In my frozen heart.
 
Old tavern, your pleasant refuge
Seeking returns my poor tormented soul,
And in your rumors they are no more,
The unmistakable voice of Ivan
And other dear comrades.
 
I hear sadly the balalaikas playing
For the remains of my transhumant life,
In this night without end
My feast will be macabre
Gray tavern of the wanderer.
 
Vodka, I'll drink
Vodka, until I kill
The cruel and cursed cold
That stuns me like a scream
Of black abysmal spectre.
Vodka pour me
Vodka, please
That when at last I go limp
With the troika of death
I'll travel to the kingdom of God.