A.Zueva words , music T.Polyaninoy .
Shrouded in mist mountain region . Silent , straining , the cries of birds .
And rustled in the morning waking up, pass , arms loose stones its borders .
Thunder of cannon fire replaces the sound of the organ . In the hands jammed machine , a guitar sound.
And swarthy face of the southern sun . And the hearts of crazy like running mustang , knock.
Grozny, Argun , Gudermes ... with the blessing of heaven ,
The explosion of black rock fate sent us .
Leads people to the gallows their lord and master , the Holy Prophet .
Leads people : Chechens , Ingush.
Leads people : Chechens , Ingush.
And we are in the trenches and mocked by fate . Flying turntables jamb as cranes.
And APCs , the moon lighting the way , plowed arable land bloodied .
But whether you're a damned Chechen land , your gardens sprout on Russian blood
Your funnels Ispahan field where had been laid , screaming soldier trail .
Grozny, Argun , Gudermes ... with the blessing of heaven ,
The explosion of black rock fate sent us .
Leads people to the gallows their lord and master , the Holy Prophet .
Leads people : Chechens , Ingush.
Leads people : Chechens , Ingush.
And have you ever seen - some dressed in rusty shroud tank and APC ?
Only tears welled up in his eyes, and in the mother scream frozen mouth .
And the leaves fall on the withered grass and swell , getting wet red blood .
Only tulips loose fly , but smoldering haze orange sunset.
Grozny, Argun , Gudermes ... with the blessing of heaven ,
The explosion of black rock fate sent us .
Leads people to the gallows their king and god holy prophet .
Leads people : Chechens , Ingush.
Leads people : Chechens , Ingush.
Leads people : Chechens , Ingush ...
