I chewed for a long time a taste of burnt wood
The bishop of Buxhoevden with the long nose
Was watching every move in the city of Riga
The fire had broken out in the pink steel mill

Remember! When the daggers were bathed in moonlight
When we danced like disunited souls
The wind hooked the shadow of the täm (oak) on the sky
Haunted by the memory of the sword, by the reflection of death

We remained livid — already,
The golds flooded the pale port
The five doors of fire joined each other
Like rings disintegrated by the coolness of the evening

My heart today unties its bonds with a kilma (cold) sigh
I thank my captors and I run away
Laughing in the screaming mountains
Followed by the veil of a paganõz (pagan) sun

The Order has spread terror everywhere
My bare feet run down a hill of blood
Robins whistle in the sunset
Many of us have been slaughtered

Children play with broken bones
I will embrace you with a smile of ärmatõks (of frost)
In the white abyss of our hell
Livonia remembers the dark river

From the North to the dense curves of the Salatsi
I entrusted my secret to a cloud
Your memory evaporates in the uncertain time
It is a tango of soft smoke;

A look straddling the impossible —
An anonymous refrain, a vitiated desire
It is a wise God that the sun makes sit
And the Baltic is drinking a glass of fresh grape juice

Sovietism decorates the sky with its operetta hands
With an elaborate Maltese cross the sky is powedered
The birds of my soul tear the black clouds
Se un min viga (it’s my fault) if you are far from me

If the oceans have fallen under our wet eyes
Your look has damaged my hands, my blood
The wind is already blowing a black molasses from the west,
It is a võl (sorcerer) submerged by time

Note: Live is a minority language in Latvia. Its speakers are estimated at 14 active speakers and about 20 sympathizers.