"Sunflower Russia"

Sunflower Russia, Ivan Braginski

When he wakes up, he sees nothing but snow

He longs for warmth, and a sea of soft green

But this is his home, where the cold wind blows

He enjoys his snow, but wants what is ours

His world is pure white, with soft crystal light

He dreams of sunflowers, bright yellow stars

He's sick of the cold; he's tired of ice

He's Ivan Braginski, Russia his home

He paints sunflowers on all of his walls

Among this bright yellow he likes to roam

And he walks alone through these quiet halls

Keep going, Russia; through gold might you run

Ivan Braginski, bright flower of sun.