How in the field, in the field
We saw off the severe winter
Giving gifts to Spring
Throw the shackles of Marena into the fire

Red Sun, rise up!
Warm up our house, Yarilo!
Rus’, wake up from the dream,
Let us gain the power of youth!

Awake, god Perun,
Take the mighty hammer
So that the ice on the rivers melts
So that the cold recedes from Rus’!

Hey, Maslenitsa—pancakes!
We’re coming to celebrate
Hey, Mother Russia
With Spring, we’re coming to crown you

How in the field, in the field
Brothers burned Maras
And into the holy fires
They cast the requests to Svarozhich

Bowing before the Gods’ churs¹
The celebration drove back the night
The night became shorter than the day
In this day of Solstice!

Hey, Maslenitsa—pancakes!
We’re coming to celebrate
Hey, Mother Russia
With Spring, we’re coming to crown you
¹Chur (чур): a wooden, protective idol

Mother Earth shook underfoot,
The light of existence tilted.
The gloomy sky sheds tears,
A bloody morning is coming!

The world was overcome by black ravens.
Tears burned, like leaves in the flame.
The time of bloody days had come.
Darkness seized the earth-mother!

Screams of the victims of darkness
Sink into the shadow’s embraces.
Eyes darken,
Awaiting Perunitsa.¹

The green field reddened,
Merging with the ardent sunset.
The horses got stuck.
Kindle the flame in your heart,

In Rus’ we’re all united.
With faith head for the enemy
We are invincible!
And to Perun offer up
Sacrifice for our brothers
Warrior God, help
The host to survive!

Bright eyes rolled up to the sky
Blood covers the land.
The heart knows that somewhere—far away
At home the brides await and weep.

Screams of the victims of darkness
Sink into the shadow’s embraces.
Eyes darken,
Awaiting Perunitsa.

Again the news carries on the wind,
Through storms and tempests,
Tears pour from the skies.
Kindle the flame in your heart,

In Rus’ we’re all united.
With faith head for the enemy
We are invincible!
And to Perun offer up
Sacrifice for our brothers
Warrior God, help
The host to survive!
¹Perunitsa: Perun’s consort

Oh, Rus’—the great land,
Broken by the enemy,
Rise and awaken!
Oh, immortal warriors,
Your faithful banners
Will rise high.

In the bloodstained field
Our soldiers fell
Onto the fertile earth.
For the children, for the Motherland
You gave your lives
In the bright dawn

My Rus’ unyielding,
With the great power
To crush the enemy!
And our time will come,
We’ll cast off the enemy’s weight
Forever!

Oh, our ancient Gods!
We ask for victory,
Against the enemy
Oh, our god, Perunushka²
Do not forsake us in the battle
Let the earth shake!

Hey, hear us, brothers!
The land is cursed
With a black veil.
And gather your forces
And go to the enemy,
With a wall of brothers!

My Rus’ unyielding,
With the great power
To crush the enemy!
And our time will come,
We’ll cast off the enemy’s weight
Forever!
¹Rus’: old name for the land and people of Russia.
²Perunushka: familiar name for Perun, the chief Slavic pagan god.

Rise, Russian people!
To a righteous struggle, to a mortal struggle…

There is no rest for our ancestors,
No freedom for their descendants!
We will save our great line!
We rage in battle like a fierce wolf.

A fixed stare gazes on the sky,
In the shining stars we see our ancestors.
Their bright eyes look down in blame
When will we shower our sword with blood?

Arise, people! We’re called to battle again
By the voice of our ancestors.
He lied, who said that we’re not demigods¹
And don’t keep covenants!

Thousands of years ago
Our shining prince²
Defiled his realm—
Covered himself with the cassock³
And painted Rus’ in black.
And ended the songs and destroyed the Gods’ churs⁴,
But we were born for this,
To set this world afire once more!

The land is burning in flames,
But the halfbreed’s cloak is woven of blood
He betrayed the nation to his cross
And the ancestors look with hope to their descendants!

Brothers, Slavs! Arise for battle!
Draw your swords, piously—O people of Rus’!
Fire your sharpened arrows
Into the enemy’s side.
Again, again drive them out, sons of Svarog!

And the enemies who were defeated
Leave behind a bloody trail.
This land, which bears the glory,
Is flooded with the sea of sorrows it cries.
Freedom is shackled in slavery.
The terrible cross lies heavy on the heart!
Shadows, hidden under the cassock,
Praise the foreign faith.

Arise, people! We’re called to battle again
By the voice of our ancestors.
He lied, who said that we’re not demigods
And don’t keep covenants!

A fixed stare gazes on the sky,
In the shining stars we see our ancestors.
Their bright eyes look down in blame
When will we shower our sword with blood?

Brothers, Slavs! Arise for battle!
Draw your swords, piously—O people of Rus’!
Fire your sharpened arrows into the enemy’s side.
Again, again drive them out, sons of Svarog!
¹Bogatyr (богатырь): literally, “demigod”; term for epic heroes such as Ilya Muromets
²Vladimir Sviatoslavich, ruler of Kievan Rus’, who converted Rus’ to Christianity
³Cassock (ряса): a traditional Christian garment
⁴Chur (чур): a wooden, protective idol

Moonlight passes over the forest,
The leaves, with a whisper, praise the gods,
Singing a song to Veles.
The voice of rusalka¹ calls from the banks.

Let the grasses be sprinkled with dew,
And bonfires illuminate the meadows.
And laying wreaths on brows,
Touch the living water.

The brothers’ gazes are drawn to the sky,
Paying praise to the Gods,
Rendering the great offerings,
Filling the horns with wine.

Let the circle dance be filled with song,
Glorifying the summer solstice.
The exalted gods will merge with us,
Our faith will always remain.

At sunset time turned back,
Foreshadowing the days of Kupala,²
Our ancestors’ spirit we’ll praise,
Bringing an offering to our god.

Lift your gaze, raise it to the sky, hail!
Pray to the Gods, fill the horn, hail!
Lift your gaze, turn to the sun, hail!
Heart—awaken, faith—be reborn, anew!

Lush braids blow about,
Flying over the hot fire.
And wreaths of birch float
Down the stream as a green carpet.

Loud songs pour out,
The echo fills the fields,
The voice of Slavs is flying over the forest,
Glory to our Russian Land!

Lift your gaze, raise it to the sky, hail!
Pray to the Gods, fill the horn, hail!
Lift your gaze, turn to the sun, hail!
Heart—awaken, faith—be reborn, anew!

¹Rusalka: a female nymph-like demon that lures men into the water
²Kupala: Pagan celebration of the summer solstice

Under the swords of mighty Rod
The enemies were falling, falling on the Slavic people’s land
Hundreds of years ago the ancestors-Slavs
Were chasing from the landt the foreign tribes

Lived through the days
Of forgotten ages of a free world
Stand up in front of the Father, give him mead
The face of the Thunderer, our strength is in him!

Rod, arise!
Raise your powerful hands to the sky!
Revenge of centuries will burn before our eyes.
With the fire of truth!

Grandchildren of Veles, children of Perun!
Let us hear the voice of our grandfathers!
We’ll call the Gods to save our land from the enemies!

Fly, quick-arrow over the native land
So that those enemies vanish from the land

Forgotten heroes
Who were faithful to our Russian land!
To glorious Rod!
Children of Rod are running into eternity
Forgotten are the trials of Svarog
We’ll revive and become immortal
The way into the free world is open!

Above the great fields
A thunder is heard to execute this vengeance

Mother Earth, soaked with blood
Cut the chain of evil and violence!

We don’t only
We don’t only know fear!
We’ll save the faith
We’ll bring our brothers back, those who departed into darkness!

In the whispering of grass and rustling of wind
We hear the voice of our ancestors
Our hearts call for Slavic gods
Again, in the paths of their precepts

Mournful groan of our ancestors’ souls
Echoes that we should fight for our faith
But the Gods see, see and know
That the children of Dadzbog have risen again!

We’ll revive our faith, with the truth and the sword
Blood for blood!
Throw off the enemy cross!
Rise again!
Pierce the enemy breast with a sharp sword
And come with freedom into the centuries.

Forgotten heroes
Who were faithful to our Russian land!
To glorious Rod!
Children of Rod are running into eternity
Forgotten are the trials of Svarog
We’ll revive and become immortal
The way into the free world is open!

Down animal paths, down tight trails
I will pass over snow and come to nowhere.
I will come to nowhere, and bow before the tree,
Light a bright-fire and pray to the gods.

Dark night, envelop me!
Bright fire, warm me at the day’s end.
At day’s end I will bend the knee,
I will tell the ancestors of misfortunes.

The heart overflowed in warm tenderness
And to the pagan gods, I confess whom I love.
Mokosh¹, weave a fate with the fine fellow forever!
Accept the small offering and heartfelt bow.

Down animal paths, amidst the dense trees,
I will run, I will fly, covering the trails.
Covering the trails of unknown beasts.
My heart beats stronger with every step.

Dark night, envelop me!
Bright fire, warm me at the day’s end.
At day’s end I will bend the knee,
I will tell the ancestors of misfortunes.

I will charm the bright falcon,
My bright falcon will fly to me.
Whoever you were, a black raven,
Down animal paths I’ll take you with me.

¹Mokosh (Макошь): Pagan goddess, protector of women.

The earth’s last breath in the darkness of the starless night,
Suffering in the embrace of the darkness—seen by troubled eyes.
Heroes of past times who sleep in forgotten barrows
Have seen that the world is obsessed with foreign faith and glory.
So—sleeping ancestors of Slavs, who dedicated their lives to the native faith
Raise their voices to the gods, screaming through the gray sky:
“We pray and ask you, descendants of the mighty and glorious ones
That faith be brought back, there, where it had been!

We fell in battles for honour, for faith, for Rus’ and freedom!
Descendant, are you still here? Then fight for the faith of your people!
For faith, inherent in us, for faith that remained with Rus’!”
The Slavs’ mighty heart pressed anxiously to breast.

Hey ancestors! We hear your call. In the dark of night, or in peaceful slumber.
We hear, through the whispering wind and see that Rus’ is gripped by pitch darkness,
But soon that time will come, which had fallen into oblivion.
We will be back, and revive our faith, forever!