My warm North, white winds,
 Rocking the steppe, like a cloud.
 Time flies a drifting, all night,
 And the sun shines miserably down.
 Sleeping rivers, slow streams,
 Under the songs of a Blizzard, carries away to nowhere.
 And snow sweeps my lines,
 Prickly snow, long winter.
 And brighten up the day, silent road,
 And sweet is the ice of the clear stream,
 Dawn shadow, of the invisible God,
 And the milky way in the sky.
 Under the moan of a long, howling snowstorm,
 I am carried forward by the essence of life.
 I will repeat myself in some parallel,
 In an eternal spiral, continuing the path...