Again the blossoms of May Have decorated the meadows and valleys And fields and forests and old farmsteads... My native farm, tell me why I long for you so much? And why I love you like this? Perhaps it's only because I was bustling here when I was small And at the pure stream, I played with my friends. Because I found my first love like an adorable rosebud In a small hut of the native village... Here joyfully passed My youth - as a pearl. A song resounded as an echo of lark over fields Whenever I remember the early sunny spring morning I long for that song every day. There near the birches Violin strings slowly tremble The hymn of its notes is like forefathers' lament. Like a friend who I love with all my heart I will never ever forget the native village.