How high


How high above us our sky!
Beloved homeland lie beneath the edge.
Blooming meadows, rustling corn ears -
And raising my country for us!

And do not embrace, and not cast a glance
Wheat fields, villages, towns,
And our rivers not vymeryat depth
Do not count on pasture herd!

And even he sings about our sky,
Who is our motherland roads did not come,
Who ever under the sun was not,
But his light on the songs loved!

And if someone touches our Fatherland,
Then our courage and all the love his
We will give the country that will not let down
And do not give up their banners in battle! 1938