На рубеже Кто-то твёрдой десницею Мертвой Водой обливает растерзанных! Светлая Русь возродилась жар-птицею Первыми пали - рождаемся первыми! At the turn of the stone hoarfrost Smrada river swaddles mists Songs sings reviving idol, Mystery walks steep mounds
At the turn rang of chain mail, Snow crunches, air chopped True, the blue of the banner-snowstorm, Swastika bright, shining gold!
Steel tired to defend Devils outlined in black numbers Liquid flow of verbiage brew, Assemblies of thoughts, aggregate thoughts.
At the turn of Someone with a firm hand Dead Water drenches torn to pieces! Light Russia was revived by a firebird The first fell - we are born first!