Ukraine grumbled
It grumbled for a long time
It bleeded and got redder along the steppes for a long while
It bleeded, bleeded and dried.
The steppes are turning green.
Grandfathers lye, and tombs above them are showing blue
And what about them being so high?
Nobody knows them,
Nobody will cry sincerely,
Nobody will remember.
Just wind will blow above them quietly
And the dew drops will wash them in the early morning.
The sun will rise, dry and cherish
And grandsons? They don’t care
They sow the grain for the barins.
There is a lot of them, but who will say
Where the Gonti’s tomb is
Where is the saint martyr buried?
Where did Zaliznyak, the generous soul, find his peace?
It’s hard! It’s difficult! Kat reigns, and they will not be remembered.
Ukraine grumbled
It grumbled for a long time
It bleeded and got redder along the steppes for a long while
It bleeded, bleeded and dried.
Cannons fired day and night
The Earth cries and sags
It’s sad, it’s frightening but when you recall this your heart smiles.