Golden rye waits in the fields For the harvest coming up Man is waiting for sunise Bears crown to try on Wind bends rye spikes to the ground This time crops are ripen well Grains are falling like a gold To the den of bear
The hymn to bearskins will sung By their children And when curtain time will come By children of their children Let the heart to prompt a term When it's time to make a choice And to clothe like king a wood Fell in the skin of a bear