Прялка [Pryalka] [English translation]

Night at my back, thief at the gates,

Distaff's hum won't let you sleep -

I am here yet again.

Some spin flax, some spin wool,

Some spin passion and some spin revenge,

And I shall spin your death.

The wheel drives blood through the veins,

The wheel pours poison into the lips,

Wheel, keep spinning - it is I...

Hey, spinner, work faster,

Light fire, await the guests,

Pour wine and make the bed!..

The crescent of moon cut a path on the palm -

Don't forget about the chase -

He's hunting down.

Blood - unto iron, wings - unto arms,

Unto heart - drunkenness, and bitterness - unto lips,

You've dared to glance back yourself.

Wheel, keep spinning on steely spikes,

The fear burned away in seven bonfires,

But your death - neither here nor there;

I'll be waiting night and day,

I'll walk through you with fire and sword,

To the heart - with an aspen stake!

I see, I know - you're on the way,

Wheels of fire in the sky,

The thread is melting and the time is near;

You're an outlaw - go out of the window,

Crime - is the price for love,

So cross, cross the doorway.

Transformation of life into death,

Into rotation of blazing spokes,

Into scorching shine from beneath eyelashes;

Flow into death like a boiling tar,

Scatter in hundreds of ash petals,

Fall into my hands like a star,

You're mine, you're mine now, forever and ever!..