Virtual tour: Monument to a stroller on the shore of Lake Baikal. In the wild steppes of Transbaikalia,
Where gold is dug in the mountains
Tramp, cursing fate,
Dragged with a bag on his shoulders.
Fled from prison on a dark night
In prison, he suffered for the truth.
Go no further urine -
Before him stretched Baikal.
Tramp to Baikal fit,
Fishing boat takes
And the sad song gets,
About the Motherland sings something.
Tramp Baikal moved
Towards dear mother.
"Ah, hello, ah, hello, dear,
Is my father and brother healthy? ”
"Your father has long been in the grave,
The earth is filled up,
And your brother has long been in Siberia,
It has long been shackled.