https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5DGOQ-G1664
Prairies, those Russian prairies . . .
Whether it snows, or time’s for moonlight.
Anguish and blessing this wording carries.
I will remember it all outright.
Those Russian prairies, those Russian prairies . . .
So many roads I have walked in my life.
They are like freedom with of youth cherries.
In every step I’m still eager to strive.
Neither forests nor seas have a similar sign.
It’s with me. It’s my grass field.
Cosmic forces move Earth.
It’s old home of mine either rain or sunshine.
Land of Russia, hello,
I’m fine Spica, always yours.