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Golden rye waits in the fields |
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For the harvest coming up |
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Man is waiting for sunise |
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Bears crown to try on |
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Wind bends rye spikes to the ground |
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This time crops are ripen well |
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Grains are falling like a gold |
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To the den of bear |
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The hymn to bearskins will sung |
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By their children |
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And when curtain time will come |
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By children of their children |
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Let the heart to prompt a term |
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When it's time to make a choice |
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And to clothe like king a wood |
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Fell in the skin of a bear. "The call of ancestors" |
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The ice chains will be broken by the first coming rill |
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And sleeply mighty hands will feel free again |
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Refreshing vital juices will run thru young veins |
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Drive out the drunkeness and waking the life up |
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You hear the voices ofthe ancestors around |
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When the mountain top is red-stained by the dawn |
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And a ship isrolled on surges from impstiens |
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Just when your palm touch the hilt of a sword |
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Be ready for the trials new life is coming on |
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You'll hear the greatest voices |
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To take the place beside |
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They call you. In the kingdom |
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Where forever brave man live |
