Крук

No tearing
A black raven circles over the steppe
He seems to know my fate.
He soars into
The sky, then dives down and croaks
A Cossack horse trembles beneath the rider, dust blankets the path in the wind
Beyond the
Kurgan the sun sets, ahead is
A hostile horde
Hey raven, fly high, do not touch him raven
Better spread your own wings and fly
Until the horizon clears
Raven-raven, black wing, raven-raven
Drive away evil
Still for a time, my horse still runs the
Cossack heart still burns
Raven-raven, circling in the sky
Raven-raven, steppe
When the final moment comes, you will
Circle over me
Over me you will be
Cold steel whistled, sorrow rolled