* * *
When thieves and liars mount golden thrones
And tear the ancient land right into parts
Then truth is far, and bells turn into stones
And no more ring in Rusish people's hearts.
So cry my psalters for I am a hopeless sinner,
For I'm like a stranger in my native land!
O Holy Rus! Am I the last your singer,
Your faithful voice,
And yours
Until the end?!
Written by Pavel Rusinsky
|