Behind the mound-hill, beyond the stanitsa far,
In the steppe Brenkovskaya, where the Kuban flows,
Young Cossack, proud swan,
Under the moon, his yellow song sings.
And over the steppe, free, over the river-mother
The gentle voice of the girl is flying.
And beloved, beloved, and beloved, beloved
Chopped chops, the horse lies.
Chorus:
Ah yes black ash, vague time,
Brother to brother and Cossack on the Cossack.
Above the fields wind blows bitter smoke
Widowed tears drank and Kuban, and the Crimea.
Once upon a time we lived merrily by the river
In the church on Sunday, holidays, wine.
Red and white, white and red,
And knocks a bony every day at the window.
And the Cossack wife prayed for the angel:
& quot; Return the Cornish to those whom you loved. & quot;
Yes, in a desperate battle for Baron Wrangel
Georgy Cavalier's head folded.
Chorus.
Behind the mound-hill, beyond the stanitsa far,
In the steppe Brenkovskaya, where the river flows,
Young Cossack, proud swan
From the campaign of a distant husband waiting and waiting.
