Down the Niemans ice will flow.
Buds will burst in glee.
Wait for me, as long ago,
By the apple-tree.

In the yellow fields of rye
Summer waves adieu.
Moonlit nights will fill the eye
With bright drops of dew.

Autumn winds again shall bite,
Strip the apple-tree.
In the dark and stormy night
Come and wait for me.

Frost will draw upon the pane
Tulips, camomiles.
Through the bitter winter's reign
Wait for me with smiles.

If as ever you love me
And love me alone,
These cold trenches here can be
Cosy as my home.

When I see you at my side,
Feel again your breath,
Shells and bullets I defy
And escape from death.

Don't take off your golden ring,
Don't cut short your plait,
I know not what fate may bring,
You, my love, must wait.

For the fallen they will mourn,
Flags half-mast will fly...
Don't believe them... I'll return:
I must live, not die.

Sticks will bud and start to grow,
Even stones will stir...
Wait for one as long ago,
Now and evermore.