Hey, drive, boy, with a breeze,
|
To sing blood and dust in a column.
|
Let the old goblin whistle after us,
|
The witch will hide the white light in the thicket.
|
On native roads,
|
Dark and miserable
|
To hell in the mouth
|
To fall
|
And then resurrect
|
And in the same place
|
Raise the golden cross!
|
On the right - waves of laughter, then mat,
|
Someone fires a cannon at random
|
On the left - silence and God's grace.
|
No, I can't understand you with my mind!
|
Saints here and there
|
Strange, barefoot,
|
And in the eyes -
|
Heaven.
|
But they will drink and eat,
|
Everyone will go down to the thread,
|
Norov will be shown cool.
|
Let's live, Mother Russia!
|
With us is the power of the cross,
|
There is no trouble that will pass us by!
|
There were hordes and khans,
|
Terrible chieftains,
|
But the last word is always yours!
|
Hey, drive, boy, with a breeze,
|
To hell with the thoughts of the dashing past,
|
Let's sing a song to the whole neighborhood,
|
God won't give it away - the pig won't eat it!
|
On native roads,
|
Dark and miserable
|
To hell in the mouth ...
|
Eh, not in suit!
|
And then we'll rise
|
And in the same place
|
Let's raise the golden cross!
|
Let's live, Mother Russia!
|
With us is the power of the cross,
|
This is not the first time we risk our heads!
|
There were hordes and khans,
|
Terrible chieftains,
|
But the last word is always yours!
|
Hey, drive, boy, into space,
|
We are not afraid of any fence,
|
Again they change gingerbread for a whip,
|
And for centuries people have been waiting for a miracle...
|
Rushing along the roads
|
Dark and miserable
|
To hell in the mouth
|
To fall
|
And then they will rise
|
And in the same place
|
The golden cross will be raised! |