Сарма, Сколот - Родимый Дон
текст песни

Amidst the forest shadows and the whispering grain,
A song resounds, caressing the heart;
It swells in power with the rising storm,
And pours like drumming rain from the heavens!

Let every living soul remember this:
No song is dearer than this one.
Our glorious people shall never perish—
For death itself does not exist!

The wind gallops across the steppe in a headlong rush,
Whistling as it scythes the rye with a saber-stroke;
And close beside it, the Don has settled down to sleep,
Concealing a silent tremor within its tranquil pools.

Upon this land, which our grandfathers plowed,
Our footprints shall never fade away;
Here we live, and here we raise our children—
To the glory of our forebears, and in defiance of our foes!

And amidst the blessed silence of the Bryansk forests,
I look back... as if in a dream:
My native steppe, my beloved Don—
Someday, I shall return to you!