Saint Martyrius, Archbishop of Novgorod,

Oh, along the Seliger,
Along the Volga's Road,
The sailboats were sailing to
The Great Prince Vsevolod.
The sailboats were sailing to
The Great Prince Vsevolod.

There were ferocious brave lads,
Strong men believed in God.
They were blessed with a golden cross
By the Saint Sophia of Novgorod.

And on the deck, gray like a moon,
Archbishop, an old  man,
He wrote a letter long ago
With a crane's feather pen -

"You've multiplied your prince lineage,
Oh, Great Prince Vsevolod,
And your son, Svyatoslav, will sit
On the throne in Novgorod.

But from the mountains, through the woods
Horde's riding to ruin your grave,
Will burn your castle glorious,
And make your children slaves!

And they will burn your golden nest!
And plunder all your wealth!
For you've committed many sins!
Deserved this punishment!

You planned to kill, without mercy,
Your nephew, Andrew's son!
He lived in Georgia's exile,
Had faded there his Sun.

By you Ryazan's Gleb was killed,
Yaropolk, Mstislav - without eyes,
Dead is your brother Mikhail!
You'd provoked Lord more then twice!

Vladimir'll be burnt many times!
Cathedral'll be on fire!
The Golden Gates that Andrew built,
Will be in the ashes of poplars and brier.


Your sons, as they grow up,
Will start fighting each other!
In tears, your princess will die!
Each son wants to kill his brother!"

Oh, along the Seliger,
Along the Volga's Road,
The sailboats were sailing to
The Great Prince Vsevolod.

And on the deck, gray like the moon
There was Martyrius, the old  man,
He wrote a letter long ago
With a crane's feather pen.

When Martyrius finished writing,
He appeared before the God's Mother
Through the rivers
Soroga and Zamoshenka,
Cheremukha and Krapivenka 
right
to the Paradise

And in the boats,
there were brave lads,
Fierce and strong rowers,
They carried back Holy Relics
To Saint Sophia of Novgorod.