Where the Wind Sings in Mari

A cycle of poems «Whispers of Mari El»

The silver birches weep tonight,
Their leaves like tears in pale moonlight.
The wind recalls a mournful tune -
A cradle song beneath the moon.

Our fathers' bones now feed the soil,
Yet still their spirits walk these groves.
The sacred fire burns so low -
Who'll tend the flames the ancients stoked?

Oh, can you hear it through the pines?
The voice of blood, the old gods' signs...

Where the wind sings in Mari,
There my soul shall ever be.
Through the ashes, through the snow,
With the wolves I'll wander home!

The raven circles overhead,
His shadow where our gods were laid.
The drums still echo in the earth -
A heartbeat from a forgotten birth.

We are the embers! We are the storm!
The blood of heroes courses warm!
No grave shall hold our spirits down -
When Mari calls, we rise from ground!

Where the wind screams in Mari,
There my heart burns wild and free!
Through the fire, through the pain,
I will hear my land's refrain!

When my flesh has turned to dust,
And my sword has turned to rust,
Still the wind will know my name -
Mari sings through me again...