Odnozvutchno gremit kolokol´tchik, I doroga pylitsja slegka, I unylo po rovnomu polju Razlivaetsja pesn´ jamshchika. Stol´ko grusti v toj pesne unyloj, Stol´ko tchuvstva v napeve rodnom, Tchto v grudi moej hladnoj, prostyloj Razgorjaetsja serdce ognjom. I pripomnil ja notchi drugie I rodnye polja i lesa, I na otchi davno uzh suhie Nabezhala, kak iskra, sleza. Odnozvutchno gremit kolokol´tchik, Izdali otdavajas´ slegka, I umolk moj jamshchik. A doroga Predo mnoj daleka, daleka.

Monotonously the little bell is sounding, And the way is a little bit dusty, And over the plain fields Flows the song of the coachman. There is so much longing in this song, So much emotion in the familiar tune That in my cool breast My heart lights with fire. And I remembered other nights And the fields and forests of my home, And to my eyes, which had been dry for a long time, A tear rose like a spark. Monotonously the little bell is sounding, Softly echoing from afar, And my coachman fell silent. And the way before me Is long and far.

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