Burnt black from sun and boiler, and also the sharp winds, Jalava stands in the drivers cab, where there is steam and fire. His new boilerman is with him, feeding the flames, On Locomotive two-nine-three, that's heading to Russia today. A small, slender man, that works on the bridge, soot on the face, the hair was gray, it was a wig. Jalava, Jalava you Finn, Why are you laughing into the wind? I'm laughing because my senses are all together. And because we are progressing And because the world is spinning And because my boilerman understands his trade of boilers and flames. They are arriving in Belastrow, Where Schocks of Officers precisely control the trains on the trainyard. They examining every face, during their inspection, But they fail to see the man on the boiler, who is the enemy of the State. Jalava knows what this is about, and slowly steams by, the last guard that stands there, Locomotive two-nine-three. Jalava, Jalava you Finn, Why are you laughing into the wind? I'm laughing because my senses are all together. And because we are progressing And because the world is spinning And because my boilerman understands his trade of boilers and flames The Border station whizzes by, The birch trees are standing bare. The Locomotive two-nine-three, wheezes at in an increased rate, And Jalava laughs into the wind, into the October rain: "Boilerman, when we're over the border, something will happen!" Now the October wind cuts at the last apples, that are hanging on the bare trees, by the Finnish railway. Jalava, Jalava you Finn, Why are you laughing into the wind? I'm laughing because my senses are all together. And because the journey takes us beyond the border And Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov, my boiler, feeds the flames.
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Burnt black from sun and boiler,
and also the sharp winds,
Jalava stands in the drivers cab,
where there is steam and fire.
His new boilerman is with him,
feeding the flames,
On Locomotive two-nine-three,
that's heading to Russia today.
A small, slender man,
that works on the bridge,
soot on the face, the hair was gray,
it was a wig.
Jalava, Jalava you Finn,
Why are you laughing into the wind?
I'm laughing because my senses
are all together.
And because we are progressing
And because the world is spinning
And because my boilerman understands his trade of boilers and flames.
They are arriving in Belastrow,
Where Schocks of Officers
precisely control the trains on the trainyard.
They examining every face,
during their inspection,
But they fail to see the man on the boiler,
who is the enemy of the State.
Jalava knows what this is about,
and slowly steams by,
the last guard that stands there,
Locomotive two-nine-three.
Jalava, Jalava you Finn,
Why are you laughing into the wind?
I'm laughing because my senses
are all together.
And because we are progressing
And because the world is spinning
And because my boilerman understands his trade of boilers and flames
The Border station whizzes by,
The birch trees are standing bare.
The Locomotive two-nine-three,
wheezes at in an increased rate,
And Jalava laughs into the wind,
into the October rain:
"Boilerman, when we're over the border,
something will happen!"
Now the October wind cuts
at the last apples,
that are hanging on the bare trees,
by the Finnish railway.
Jalava, Jalava you Finn,
Why are you laughing into the wind?
I'm laughing because my senses
are all together.
And because the journey takes
us beyond the border
And Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov,
my boiler, feeds the flames.