Whisper of trees abates
Wind of Sparkling Ice
Has broken off, doesn't laugh by inflow -
Water helplessly cries
By the roots Land sinks
Into the tombs where hatred awaits
When stinky scum will come crawling
To the Russian Land
They deprives of anyone's own will
But give the ringing of rusty fetters
They don't need in free people
The slaves are necessary - as much as possible!
And the Sky - burnt by steel
Does not flow to the Earth as rain
But Aryan blood flows to rivers
By the boiling bloody stream
Burn, scum!
Once there was no lie here
Now only in cold tombs
Forgotten Wisdom is kept
And it's possible for us - to recollect it
Once doors will open
And the Cold of Underground Ice
Will kill this scum and Russian People
Will crucify it again for ever