The way broke the steppe in half,
And it is obscure where the end of the way is, -
On the way we go on different sides
And cannot cross them.
How many winters will this way
Somebody should risk -
We have to talk with each other - the crossroad is not far off,
Cross it, in case it never occured to me!
The way, the way across the earth -
Across fate with a deep track, -
Many have found themselves a fellow-traveller
Not for long - but not a life companion.
Flash through oneís mind like
a smirking calamity,
Divorced forever -
Where are the necessary words, who finds them first?
Again I mist the crossing.
The river! - was dispatched to us both like a deliverance,
One has only to stretch out the hands...
But again, again we stand on different flight decks, -
Suggest to us anything!
The wind of the Volga, intoxicating
Whispers into the souls,
There is not much time - hurry and donít wait on the end of the way, -
But who will first risk to get across.