What's that song, what's that song
That our (land of) Rus is singing
And though you might burst, brother
You will never sing like this, frenchman
(REF)
Golden, daring, and not german
Daring, russian and alive, one hell of a song !
How to prolong, how to fill
The songs of the russian people
After all, from where it is taken
It's hitting straight to the heart
(REF)
(INTERLUDE)
It shall sing of the dark of night
Or of the white snow
Of the merchant's daughter
Of meadows that are like silk
It shall sing of the blue-ish sea
Or our mother the river
Of grief and sorrow
Of heartfelt sadness
(INTERLUDE)
Rus is mighty even when singing,
It is wide and deep
It is free, and a rattlesnake
and its tone resounds