Whisper of trees abates,
Wind of Sparkling Ice
Has broken off, doesn't laugh by inflow -
Water helplessly cries .
By the roots Land sinks
Into the tombs where hatred awaits
When stinky scum will come crawling
To the Russian Land
They deprives of anyone's own will,
But give the ringing of rusty fetters.
They don't need in free people,
The slaves are necessary - as much as possible!
And the Sky - burnt by steel,
Does not flow to the Earth as rain,
But Aryan blood flows to rivers
By the boiling bloody stream.
Burn, scum!
Once there was no lie here,
Now only in cold tombs
Forgotten Wisdom is kept,
And it's possible for us - to recollect it
Once doors will open,
And the Cold of Underground Ice
Will kill this scum and Russian People
Will crucify it again for ever