"Birches along the river" (in Tatar)
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No matter how much I look, I can't get enough of admiring,
The birches along the native river,
Which stand barefoot,
Running out to meet us in a crowd.
I love you all, my dear ones,
I respect you, I love you very much.
And in honor of you I sing my simple,
Heartfelt songs.
From the trembling leaves of the birches
A song of happiness breaks from the soul.
How much time is left until I say goodbye?
How beautiful are my native places!
Without taking my eyes off the road,
The oaks have become sad and frozen.
The wind, caressing the young oaks,
Gently tugs at their forelocks.
I will move toward the mountain and straight to the sun,
I will continue my journey in the riot of spring.
Among the grasses, flowers, entering the valley
I will get lost someday…
If again in unknown distances,
The roads suddenly take you away,
I will hear the noise of native birches -
That is the eternal voice of the native land
"I will pray for Holy Rus'"
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I will pray for Holy Rus':
That the thread of God would awaken,
That the Russian Spirit would not go out,
That the Russian voice would not fade away,
That the Russian verse would not die down,
That the Russian temple would not be shameful,
That the Russian people would not fall into fornication,
That the melody of Russian girls would float in the air,
That the Russian rivers would flow,
That the Russian forest would not disappear,
That the Russian bread would ripen and grow strong,
That the Russian Cross would call everyone around,
That the Russian shield would not be beaten,
That the Russian sword would save in battle,
That the Russian army would be immense,
That the Russian tsar would be, as in the old days,
That Rus' would be diverted from wine,
That Rus' would grow like a pine tree,
That Rus' would not fall into sadness,
That Rus' blossomed, I pray…
