Sabre my cold, ration my hungry
do not cry my mummy,
that letters are not present for a long time.
There will be no it vain our feat noble,
And time gold will come all the same.
There will be no it vain our feat noble,
And time gold will come all the same.

It is not necessary to me of mercy, it is not necessary to me of the award,
And give me a rifle and give me a horse.
And if I shall be lost, let red groups,
Let red groups will pay back for me.
And if I shall be lost, let red groups,
Let red groups will pay back for me.
Blindly the gun shoots, backhand the sabre cuts,
And the raven huge above war turns.

And the bullet knows precisely whom it does not love.
Whom it does not love in the ground in crude lays.
And the bullet knows precisely whom it does not love.
Whom it does not love in the ground in crude lays.

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