There is gloomy country of snowy plains,
Of everlasting forests under grey highs,
Of constrained waters and cold winds,
Having made by a snow-storm from illusory dreams.
Russian lands thickened in night,
There are steel swords in depths of burial mounds,
That shaded bloody rivers in the past,
They are waiting for an awakening and battles’ smell.
There are shadow’s temples among white hills,
There are quiet squeaks of frozen oaks,
There are sounds, that thickened in branches,
In old mossy stones’ splits…

There are invisible distance beyond a horizon,
And river’s sleeves twist like a snake,
The water has been flowed to the South and to the East
Through a forest by sharp paths,
To an endless steppe, born by heavens,
Which was broken by ground’s hardness.
There wormwood’s smell rise to stars,
In order to cool dawn be awaked.
There is an ancient power of having left peoples
Wander like winds over the grass
And free wild wanderers, riding the Turas (ancient taurouses)
Worry the underground Nav’ by horses’ hoofs.

The rocky seaside is very inaccessible,
For fateful black wave-
So a person’s spirit, Sloven’s Clan
Is inexorable in front of enemy’s horde.

While Sun’s light has been shone like a bright flame
Over Russian land for a long time,
A strange star of another faith
Won’t sparkle over our Great land.

Russian girl’s plot is:
-“The bird flew to blue sea,
And dropped it’s right wing into a sea,
I don’t regret a wing, but – a blue-grey feather,
I don’t regret the farther, but regret to leave the young man,
This young man have the smoothly brushed head,
His head will match for his life as a warrior».

It is quiet at far border’s bounds
That is lying between snow and fire’s heat;
The summer lightening blaze like heaven fire;
There is a foreign land beyond hills.
A steel hatchet of Slavonic spirit
Froze like arrow, waiting for an extraction
Until the time to be in accurate person’s hands-
The gate has hidden beyond oak forest’s shadows.
There are harpoons’ towers around broken walls
And hundreds of broken enemy’s arrows
In ruts, around the closed gates,
Where their quick flying had finished.
The fortress under Perun’s right hand light
Is a guard and a keeper of invisible borders,
Is faithful barrier from steppe’ fires
Among black thickets and distant fields.

The heros’ brave is indestructible for ever,
The ancient bogatyrs’, that kept an ancient behest!
Slava, Slava, Slava is for Slavonic sons,
For valiant men, that have guarded!
Our land is full of men with a strong spirit-
So, let a native spare be free!