With Slava's banner forwards!

To shed heroic blood,

For native country's welfare,

Let rifle's voice resound!

With over weapousin our hands

We'll thunder at he foe;

And in blood will claim the rights

Which home and hearth demand.

Mother dear was me entreating,

Arms around my neck was winding,

While my maiden near was sobbing;

My belowed stay thou here!

Farewell, mother, farewell, maiden!

Now my nation is my mother,

Honour, glory-my betrohed;

Fly then, let us, fly to arms!