Текст песни Сбитень - Стрибог

Drove boats behind the waves,
For that for the ninth shaft,
For that damned shaft.

The waves are falling like shafts
The salty boil excites,
Shakes the cup full.
And the shore groans:
"Where is Stribog driving them?
Where is Stribog driving them? "

Stribog, Stribog,
Severe God!
I turn the horn
I knock on the threshold
So that you, Stribog,
Could not stir up
Sea roads.

He howls, tears like a warrior,
The crumpled meadow rises,
Curchavit is a humpbacked hill.
Denouncing a woman's hair
- No wonder the ear has dried up
And the sun was burning and pricking!

- I sewed a red sail.
I tarred the bottom in the boat.
I loved the fisherman.
I burned the branches -
Dry burns.
The resin flowed -
Black flowed.
I spun a net
I bore the fruit -
It bore your fruit.

Stribog, Stribog!
I turn the horn
So that you, Stribog,
Could not stir up
Sea roads.