A Cossack Went Far Away to Foreign Lands

WENT THE COSSACK FAR INTO FOREIGN LANDS
The Cossack rode far into foreign lands,
On his good black steed,
Oh, he left his native country behind,
And for a time, for a time he departed.
He could not, no, he could not return
To his homeland… to his father’s house.
In vain, the young Cossack’s wife,
Morning and evening, goes to look northward.
Oh, she waits and keeps on waiting
From far… from far away lands,
When, oh when will my dear Cossack-soul
Fly back to me again.
The Cossack, dying, asked and prayed,
That they would heap a mound of earth at his head.
Oh, and let a guelder-rose grow upon that mound,
The native guelder-rose,
Let it grow and shine in bright,
Azure colors.
Let a stray little bird upon the guelder-rose
Sing and warble about the Cossack’s life,
Oh, how the Cossack lived in a foreign land,
In a foreign, faraway land,
And how he died, yet remembered
His homeland… his father’s home.
And there, beyond the mound, where snowstorms whirl,
Where fierce frosts crackle in winter,
Oh, there the pines and spruces
Moved mightily and grimly—
And under the snow, the Cossack’s bones
Lie quietly.

GLORY TO GOD IN HEAVEN
Glory to God in heaven,
And to the people on earth,
And to us Don Cossacks
On the Polish border.
Let the people not be afraid,
That war comes upon Rus’,
Once there was a Polish border,
And now it is our land.
We loved the border lines,
We love our faithful wives,
What we once loved—we’ve forgotten,
Now we love our service alone.
The people see our merits,
They give us drink and feed us,
They will never wrong us,
And always reward us justly.
When they release us from the border,
We will go to our wives,
To our good stanitsas,
To our children and fathers.
We’ll tell how we served,
How we guarded the border,
Though we gained no wealth,
We found great glory.
Glory loud and mighty,
How proud we are of it!
And we, the holy Motherland,
We guarded her from war.
For the people and holy Rus’
We are ready to die,
But for golden freedom
We desire no ranks or titles.
A wise little horse—a faithful friend,
The spear—the Cossack’s glory,
The saber—a loyal companion,
And the rifle—against the foe.