Our Race is on the edge of the grave,
the European House is laying in ruins.
Revive it - find forces inside yourself to live
like a Proud Warrior, not as a slave.

Never surrender,
orn White, ready to go with your heart on a blade.
Strong and brave will get Victory,
enemy will lay under feet.

Stroke of Aryan sword is mortal.
Strangle gas knows no mercy.
There will not be concessions ever in anything,
none compromise is good for us!

Hail to those, who has died in the battle for Freedom,
who has spilled blood for the Fatherland.
And we'll serve more to the native folk from ashes
and dust we'll rise again.

More powerful, than before,
in thousand times,
we'll march through the land like steel avalanche.
Look, Brother, don't shake at the last moment,
strike harder with heavy Russian stick!

Stroke of Aryan sword is mortal.
Strangle gas knows no mercy.
There will not be concessions ever in anything, none compromise is good for us!

Slavs are always in the first rows,
proud Warriors of Holy Land.
They fight to death in their cities and will not retreat,
because they are right.

Bullets are whistling, but I like these sounds,
thoughts are clean as a flame of a candle.
Let muscles not to become weak,
let our swords not become blunt.