Singer! since ancient times limits a
Warring tribes our:
Then our moans side,
That your dying under the storm.
And you, happened, Pyro
Kremlin shame and captivity,
And we are on the stones of the fallen wall
Infant of Prague beat,
When in the bloody dust trampled
Beauty Kostyushkynыh signs.
And that is not our, some with your maiden
Ring cherished paired;
Do not drink the cup, we cherished
The health of your red wives;
And our young maiden,
By bringing the heart of the Pole,
reject, proudly blazing,
People's love of the enemy.
But the voice of the wonderful poetry
hostile hearts of friends -
Before the heavenly smile
Earthly hatred is silent,
With the sweet sounds of inspiration,
When songs lire ...
And rebel blessing,
Peace does not descend on the tribes ...
