Текст песни Алый Ворон - Напружинилась сталь клинка...

Napruzhinilas steel blade,
She called after him death.
The joy of life, as a thread - so thin,
With so just die here.

Hardness of heart and a steady hand,
Integrity of human souls,
All dub a shelf,
With an avalanche of rushing into battle.

Who are single and who is a widower?
In whom love, in whom fear boils?
Who was the creator of your life,
The joy of living, and now killed?

Who is rich and who is poor here?
Death hour turns into profit.
All the good that with him there,
Handful ringing crumble into dust.

Brighter fall in battle than in the turmoil of days burning,
In the body, the spirit of victory shakes chainmail shelter !!!

The strength of the show his true !!!
Strength prove its truth !!!

The hour and duty calls stand into operation!
Faithful son of his land!
At the gates of the enemy is waiting for the war !!!

Do not disturb him now no enemies,
Neither his friends ...
Do not beckon with them to the feast.
Many of them, not him alone.

And to him, until the morning lying
On the bloody, damp earth,
That would be to believe - soul lives,
To at least somewhere to live ... in the sky !!!