Letter 1 in English � Amanda Buck
The Song for the Homeless
Where the Black Sea waves beat upon the sand,
Where the Russian stands on the shores of the Dniester.
Where the Russian robs and ransacks every house,
There is my homeland, there I am at home.
Hunger is now our bitter lot,
And the children beg for a piece of bread
Many die of hunger; no one will be sated,
Sad is the life, now in village and town.
Ukraine, with the beautiful dales and height,
Who knows if we will see it again for ourselves,
To wander in the mountains, oh, that would be fine,
And to drink a little glass of the cool wine.
I must now wander in the wide world,
Still only dry bread and no half-penny of money.
Everything is destroyed, great is our misery,
And poor, we are homeless.
Homeless, that is a bitter word,
Always wandering from place to place,
Nowhere finding peace, that is really difficult,
No house of your own, no more home.
God help us out of this bitter misery,
Give us work and daily bread,
That we can live as in the olden days,
Oh, we would rejoice, were it only so far.
Oh you, my beloved homeland,
Where, so carelessly, we lived on the shore of Dniester,
Where we were so happy, oh, one believes it,
Everything came as a beautiful dream.
Letter 1 in English � Amanda Buck
The Song for the Homeless
Where the Black Sea waves beat upon the sand,
Where the Russian stands on the shores of the Dniester.
Where the Russian robs and ransacks every house,
There is my homeland, there I am at home.
Hunger is now our bitter lot,
And the children beg for a piece of bread
Many die of hunger; no one will be sated,
Sad is the life, now in village and town.
Ukraine, with the beautiful dales and height,
Who knows if we will see it again for ourselves,
To wander in the mountains, oh, that would be fine,
And to drink a little glass of the cool wine.
I must now wander in the wide world,
Still only dry bread and no half-penny of money.
Everything is destroyed, great is our misery,
And poor, we are homeless.
Homeless, that is a bitter word,
Always wandering from place to place,
Nowhere finding peace, that is really difficult,
No house of your own, no more home.
God help us out of this bitter misery,
Give us work and daily bread,
That we can live as in the olden days,
Oh, we would rejoice, were it only so far.
Oh you, my beloved homeland,
Where, so carelessly, we lived on the shore of Dniester,
Where we were so happy, oh, one believes it,
Everything came as a beautiful dream.
