One early morning the poplars rustled
Cranes flew over the withered cornfield
And warmly said goodbye to the cranes Niva
Bent over the river the willow yearned.

Behind the distant hill the dawn lit up
Somewhere under the accordion the song spilled
Cranes flew over their native land -
We understand the pain of separation with our hearts.

By the high road the poplars rustled
The cranes flew south that morning
Everything has long been forgotten lost somewhere
Only in the heart of the song remained forever.