My field, the field


Mine field, a field, the field of gold,
You are former mountain in the wind scatter.
Upon thee, field, blue sky -
The sky of my homeland.

We meet the morning with a cheerful song,
And the ring over a field of our voices.
And carries the song on the collective farm villages,
The second song of the river and the forest.

Upon thee, field, flying birds -
Due to the blue sea to distant lands -
And carried on the wings of fog border
Songs that folded my motherland.

If the storm clouds gather
And it plays a storm over my country,
Propoosh you, field, battle songs,
And proskachet field horse battle! 1937