* * *

Deep in Siberia's mines, let naught
Subdue your proud and patient spirit.
Your crushing toil and lofty thought
Shall not be wasted — do not fear it.

Misfortune's sister, hope sublime,
From sombre dungeon pain will banish;
Joy will awake and sorrow vanish...
'Twill come, the promised, longed-for time;

The heavy locks will burst — rejoice! —
And love and friendship 'thought delusion
Will reach you in your grim seclusion
As does my freedom-loving voice.

The prison walls will crash... Content,
At door will freedom wait to meet you;
Your brothers, hastening to greet you,
To you the sword will glad present.