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The hut bended on the high hill,
The wheat bended in the wild field.
And a white-haired old man is standing near the decrepit gates,
Alone, in silence…

Look, old man Kandrat –
Your descendants are ready to fight!
Look, old man Kandrat –
We are here, with you!

In your blood is the breath of the Gods,
In your eyes is the voice of Rus…
Look, old man Kandrat,
Look!

The thunder of insane hooves,
Of fiery manes, of strength.
Cutting the mists of horizons
By the enraged storm of the course-wind.

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