Now we are silent

And sing no songs any more,

Our pace grows heavy;

This is the night, that was bound to come.

Give me your hand,

Perhaps we still have a long way to go.

It’s snowing, it’s snowing.

Winter is a hard thing in a strange country.

Where is the time

When a light, a hearth burned for us?

Give me your hand!

Perhaps we still have a long way to go.