The ships will anchor awhile and will line for the destination, But they come back through the stormy weather. Even six months wonít pass - and Iíll appear, To leave again, to leave again For six months. Everyone comes back but the best friends, Except the most beloved and loyal women. Everyone comes back, - except them who are more needed. I donít believe in destiny And in myself - even less. But I want to think, that it isnít true, - That burning the ships will soon come out of the fashion. Sure, Iíll be back, all surrounded by my friends and dreams. Sure, I will sing, sure, - Even six month wonít pass.
© ?. Translation, 2014