Campaign Through Memories
(муз.-Можчиль, сл.-Можчиль)

There were a nomad in my dream
Dressed tatters, bright old eyes
Profound wrinkles, gloomy face.
And shaggy heavy horse.

He spoke to me:
"I was a Lord of medieval earth,
My people have revolt to me,
Cried near my tower's gates:

"There is no food
From beggar earth
To children, women, sick
KING - TYRANT !!!
AWAY WITH !!!
Let him to leave his throne !!!"