A streak of gleaming brass pierces the horizon, a rustling in the grass|Scarlet-clad arrows, flying weightless over seas of green|Scarlet-clad arrows, flying weightless over seas of green||From Volga to Dnepr they spread their wings, the steppe beneath is their domain|Nothing can escape them, for their spirit is eternally strong|Nothing can escape them, for their spirit is eternally strong||Proud of heart and strong of arm they bow to none, this motherland's protectors|All Tatars rightly fear them, for their shashka's always keen|All Tatars rightly fear them, for their shashka's always keen||Wherever they go they strike dread into our enemies hearts, cherkesska bloody red.|A storm of hooves and flying banners, sweeping through the plains|A storm of hooves and flying banners, sweeping through the plains