Hey, Northern folk, do you hear how
The first birds are singing & the snowdrops are blooming?
The ice cover is breaking in the rivers beneath the scarce snow
That's the Mother of Earth waking up from her sleep
The sky is clear up to the horizon -
A wish to run there arises, to scream aloud out of joy
The horns are blowing the news about the celebration
The God of horses is coming to this land as the heavy hoes are rumbling
Over the sky mountain, on a white horse
To the fields where the first grass is lying
Together with the warm summer sun
The God Ūsinņš rides to us each year
It's time for the priestesses, they're putting on white robes
They're heading to the sacred grove were the oaks of gods grow,
The fire is burning there and it is being uttered in a song:
Oh, Ūsinņš, ye dear God, your children are greeting you!
Over the sky mountain, on a white horse
To the fields where the first grass is lying
Together with the warm summer sun
The God Ūsinņš rides to us each year
Hey, Northern folk, do you hear how
The first birds are singing & the snowdrops are blooming?
The horns are blowing the news about the celebration
The God Ūsinņš is coming to this land as the heavy hoes are rumbling