Дубровский [Dubrovskij] [English translation]

When times of trouble arrive and waft in common folk's gall,

When midnight hour strikes twelve, the old man we all see,

He quietly comes from the woods, looking closer - he ain't old at all,

On the contrary, he's very young and handsome Dubrovsky.

Wake up, oh, my Kostroma, don't sleep, Saratov and Tver,

It won't be too long till the end of sorrow and bread crumbs,

Dubrovsky takes seat in a plane, he soars to the sky on a tear,

And flies o'er the land full of sin, and writes in the heavens:

"Don't cry, Masha, I'm here;

Don't cry - the sun will rise;

Don't hide your eyes from your God,

Or how else will He find us?

Celestial Jerusalem fane's

Still blazing through cold and ice,

Behold, it is standing around

And waiting for us both..."

He dropped down his shield and his sword, he threw his gun in the ditch,

He can breathe with ease since he grasped: no one to avenge's left,

When Motherland is in distress, his plane flies above all of us without hitch,

It's beautiful as icon-stand, and writes in the heavens:

"Don't cry, Masha, I'm here;

Don't cry - the sun will rise;

Don't hide your eyes from your God,

Or how else will He find us?

Celestial Jerusalem fane's

Still blazing through cold and ice,

Behold, it is standing around

And waiting for us both..."