Текст песни А.Никольский - Казачья колыбельная.

Sleep, baby, sleep, Mityanka,
The night over the Terek shines ...
And at the picket your father
He sits with a vintar in his hands.

Every rustle notes
Among the black dead rocks
He keeps your peace,
If only you slept peacefully ...

Angry Chechen wears away the sting
On your crooked blade
He wants to stab you,
Only we will kill him ...

On thorns, reeds
Half a moon will slide in the dark
Cut with sharp knives
Allah will not help either ...

And you will grow up and become
Guess on conversations in the evening,
In the village you will be prominent
The most glorious Cossack ...

Cut the vine for the training
Grandfather's saber
And crush the iron in the palms,
Powerfully pleasing the father ...

The night sleeps, walks like a girl,
And the moon's eye flickers
Across the river cold, ringing
Asleep with disturbing sleep Caucasus

Sleep too, sonny Mityanka,
You wouldn't know the pot ...
And at the picket your father,
And he won't sleep again ...