В кафе разбитых кораблей.

In the tavern of old ships, they roam,
Drinking grog from their tin mugs so deep.
And they treat their sweethearts, make them keep
Memories of battles, far from home.
There, by night, every man will be drunk,
Singing songs of the sea, bold and free:
How the captain, with winds in a spree,
At the helm, never faltered or sunk.

Hey, Mary! Pour another round!
Let our hearts with warm fire resound!
And don't spare your sweet kisses, my dear!
Hey, Mary! Fill the glasses, bring cheer!

In the tavern of old ships, they say,
They forget all the losses and pain,
Only how, trusting luck's fickle reign,
They would call on all devils to play.
With a shout, they would board, fierce and fast,
Noticing neither blood nor the sting.
All were young, and their spirits would spring,
Courage called them to deeds that would last.

Hey, Mary! Pour another round!
Let our hearts with warm fire resound!
And don't spare your sweet kisses, my dear!
Hey, Mary! Fill the glasses, bring cheer!

In the tavern of old ships, when light
Of the morning just starts to appear,
Mary closes the doors, sheds a tear,
Sighing softly about her own plight.
Only the old captain, in his nook,
Who had dozed for a while, soft and low,
Will say gently: "Enough, dear, you know,
All our life is a trick in a book!"

Hey, Mary! Oh, pour one more round!
Let our hearts with warm fire resound!
And don't spare your sweet kisses, my dear!
Hey, Mary! Fill the glasses, bring cheer!

Текст Елены Беловой в переводе на английский язык.