Biełaruś

— Scattered throughout the world, perishing, dwining, / You still await the Promised One, O Jews, / For Him the sons of Biełaruś are pining, / And thither all will go, both we and you. / Your torch is bright where Palestine is waiting, / Our torch is bright—in Mother-Biełaruś, / The time will come when chains will fall and vanish, / Our chains will fall; all spring will flower for us.