Текст песни МДП - Милош Обилич

No one sows bread in the fields,
And nobody grazes the flock.
Nobody weaves, does not embroider,
Nobody makes wine.

Only the wind, creak, humming ruins,
Disturbed by crying wasteland,
Moves the hair of the dead ...
Then the Turks came to Serbia.

Prince Lazar threw a cry to the Slavs:
"Stand up for Your Country!"
Bonfires in the mountains burned at night ...
The people rose to fight.

And on Vitov's day, the tents of the godless
They stood, they have no number ...
And there are so few Serbs against them ...
The shelves were knocked out by the war ...

Grabbed a sword with a crooked saber,
The arrows pierced the chest of the fighters.
And on Turkish piles of corpses
The bodies lay brave men ...

The Sultan walked along the edge of the field:
"Well, are there all Serbs standing there?"
Not one to be ruined
A detachment was sent to the villages.

And three steps from the Sultan
Light-headed boy
With an old sword appeared ...
But how could he get here?

Step one! The Janissaries stood up
Still not believing that he
Not afraid of a fierce death,
I went through all the patrols to them.

Step two! The mountains shuddered
The collapse is just a step of a hero,
And the sun shone bright
All over the blade of the sword.

And the third step! And the bastard,
Recovering his blades
Raised into the sky, but Obilic
They were all ahead for a moment.

"Farewell, Serbia!" - and at once
The blades fell on him.
Dumped the Sultan on Murad
With your blazing sword

Again the filthy bring us the chains of slavery,
Again in the mountains, bonfires are burning in the night ...
The grave of Milos in Kosovo is forgotten
And His call sounds to this day ...