Flocks of winter birds rushed off into the distance,
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The smoke drove them away faster than foxes,
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Smoke floated over the whole earth.
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The fierce rabble threw a feast with a mountain,
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Where is the warrior who will shout to them - stop!
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The West rolled in a wave to the East,
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On the backs and on the heart of the cross,
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The spears of the Teutons aimed at the Sun,
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The smell of burning carried black news.
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Owl, Wolf and Eagle made fun of the game,
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Chuya emitted Russian blood,
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All evil spirits promised help
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Master and Order of Dogs.
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At the altars the saints weep
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The alarm is buzzing,
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The hour of battle has already been appointed,
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Oh it will be hell.
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Thrice hell, but not one step back.
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The stars will show the warrior the way,
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He hastily saddles his horse,
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The heart froze, the will woke up,
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He is in battle for three nights, three days.
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And the slave's collar knocks out of his hands
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At the Master, and the ice floes are cracking,
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For the snow-covered gold of will
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The warrior strikes without sparing the sword.
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At the altars the saints weep
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Though the enemy is broken and crushed,
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One horse jumps back
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It was pitch hell, thrice hell,
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The warrior is crucified on spears.
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Now his destiny is to walk like a shadow
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And, hearing the howling of dogs, sharpen the sword again.
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He knows no fear, eternal rest,
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Everything will turn to dust, but not him.
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So much water has flown under the bridge since then
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The seas have turned into a mirage
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The shadow of a silent warrior passes
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On the shore, like a devoted guard.
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A warrior wanders all night, lights fires,
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Looking for the Prince and his brothers,
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Looking for the gold of will that was mined
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In that battle, knee-deep in blood.
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The path through the stars is again marked,
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And the alarm is buzzing again,
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At the altars the saints weep
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And the warrior descends into hell, a living hell.
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But not a step back.
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But not a step back.
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Flocks of winter birds rushed off into the distance ... |