خوبـــ ... بَد ... زِشتـــ

Snow is falling on the ground

In the forest there's no sound

A shallow grave is where we lie

The boys and men who died

And snow is falling on the ground

And we are calling to be found

And the seasons come and go

In the springtime

Birds will sing and flowers grow

At summer's end, the autumn breeze

Will whisper through the trees

And leaves are falling on the ground

And we are calling to be found

And in our homes, so many tears

They don't know where we have gone

And snow is falling on the ground

And we are calling to be found