I raise my hands up to the sky
Calling to my ancestors
Walking among fir-trees
Of the aged ancient forest

I dive in centuries of slumber
I recognize my old gods
I see my fatherland of past days
Where the eternal beauty reigns

Possessing mighty ancient force
I step into the darkness of ages
Where wisdom of the elders lurks
And Pagan Gods rule our nations

Winds are tearing along the old wood
Disturbing the lifeless calm
From the bowels of earth my song it comes
About the days back in time

That song strokes the leaves on the tops of old oaks
And water of crystal-clear lake
It tells of ancestors, of wisdom of gods
Of joy and of grief and disgrace

It speaks about glory, that lies in the past
And honour defeating our foe
Recalling the mighty and valiant hearts
Who ruled our land long ago

Go on, oh, warrior fight for your tribes
Intimidating your odds
The song of forests will be your warcry
Destroying the enemy lords*

Oh, wind of the past bring your power and might
To help your daughters and sons!
Let the slavic root grow again to the light
Of beautiful life-giving sun

The wind blows so hard
Piercing the flesh of time
The sound of old wind's rhyme
Brings power in our blood

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Don't cry, that is all in vain
Dawn is gone for me and you
At the place of birches' lane
Weeds of Christian liar grew

We will raise our swords and fight
For our oak-grove till the end
Foes will fall from slavic might
They won't trespass our land

Don't give up, don't lose your honour
Wipe your tears and hold your steel
Open eyes keep looking forward
There're still many foes to kill

We have sworn before lord Perun
To keep ancestors' precepts
And we shall never forget them
Even in the drunkenness

Heave a sigh and keep your temper
Don't forget to praise the gods
Make your generous sacrifices
Ride to battle, fight the odds

Lead us onto battlefield
Lead us, noble prince
Let us fight with slavic hands
On the side that wins
Don't surrender to the foe
We'll never retreat
Tempered steel shines in the sunlight
Reaping them like wheat

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We lived once long ago in a pleasant land
Ignorant of lies and deceit
We trusted ourselves, everyone was a friend
No anger, no envy, no greed

Our spirit was strong like a trunk of old oak
Our strength - like a powerful wind
For gods we were spilling our blood on a rock
Defending our home and our kin

Every warrior knew while holding his sword
There's no power stronger than Perun's
You shouldn't neglect it, when enemy horde
Brings in our land war and chaos

We spilled our blood on the ground of this land
And it will belong to us ever
Foes burn at the dawn their fires in vain
They won't break our order, oh, never

But ages went by, we forgot the old times
But power of earth, it's not gone
Awakening power in our slavic hearts
Giving strength to everyone

Every slav was wise as an owl of the night
And strong as a pack of wild wolfs
And his mother-earth ever gave him the might
In unity lives slavic force

Once upon a time
In the darkness of ages
Before sacred annals
Had even appeared

The keeper was born of
The northern secret
Untiring guardian
Of the slavic root

He has been obliged
To keep truth of ancestors
Revealing its wisdom
To young and stupid minds

They gather, the children
Of glorious homeland
To absorb the wisdom
This great mental might

To behold the power
Of gods in their glory
To feel cosmic balance
And grasp sense of life

He keeps living on
Through the aeons and aeons
He still stands somewhere
In our wild ancient woods

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Here they stay, the valiant warriors
Mother-homeland's faithful sons
Watching skies with gloomy sights
Where is Svarga? Somewhere. Gone

We are bold sons of brave Leda
Perun's father. Him we serve
But the evil cross of Jesus
Strikes with plague mother-earth

Oh, we see it, great old mother
Tears of grief. We see them clearly.
Your children have forgotten
About you and house of Iriy

They live and do not remember
Their ancestors of the past days
Heroes and eternal glory
Gods of thunder, gods of sun rays

But that cannot last forever
For the gods are still in heaven
They'll give power, strength and might
To their sons of slavic kind

Kolovrat will ride the land
And with his powerful hand
He will raise old tribes again
For eternal pagan reign

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