Scottish Literary Society (English text based on translation of В кругу друзей by Александр Зырянов)
We raise our cups in glad carouse To the joy of youthful days, We lift our cups as one and souse Our circle of comrades. We recollect the years, forsooth, The house abune the stream, Elixir of perpetual youth That now seems but a dream.
And whereupon the Saltire cross Above shone white and blue, We cared not what confronted us And every man was true. We put our chattels in a pile Laid out among the heather And as we sailed out from the kyle We sang a song together.
When in far foreign lands we’d roam To the unknown we were given, But in our dreams, the hills of home; While ships from us were riven. And let it not be said we stole The wealth of distant nations. But rather that our common goal Was a better world’s foundations.
For our part, then, we’ll tend the shrine, While angels guide our power: To that, while we’re not lacking wine, We’ll drink a toast this hour!
For auld lang syne – my dear! For auld lang syne! For comradeship, we’ll tak a nip – For auld lang syne.