O sons of Tengri, children of Tur, And you, you worshippers, of the Crescent Moon, Too long the Rus have bent to your will; proud Lechia now thirsts for blood! As the Sun rises, so the Moon fades: Blood shall flow on the steppes!
Face the Eagle and the Trident!
At the edge of an empire we stand, forgotten, With the Cross, the Hammer, the Axe and the Sword, Ever watchful, ever vigilant! Hear now my people's Word!
SLAVA
The Eagle and the Trident x 2
Through the seas of grass the Sons of the Steppe are riding! Their fate awaits them: BLOOD HONOUR DEATH
DEATH
"Засвіт встали козаченьки В похід з полуночі, Заплакала Марусенька Свої карий очі.
Не плач, не плач, Марусенько, Не плач, не журися за свого миленького Богу помолися."
"Ми є всі Брати, Словяни," From the Elbe to the Dnipro! Forsworn we defended, We defended Rome's borders by the Sword! The Horsemen of the East shall perish; 'tis written in their blood! Our Sons proclaim their dearth; in battle we prove our worth!