Black earth cries, the birch trees bleed
Western plague, a poisoned seed
Serpent tongues and gilded lies
See the fury in our eyes
From the steppe, the heroes rise
Slavic soul, forged in fire!
Bogatyr’s might, crush the liar!
Iron fist, no retreat!
Hammer falls, Western defeat!
Kievan Rus' in our veins
Razor wind and crimson rains
Mammoth strength, we break the chains
Hear the roar of ancient claims
Your glass towers turn to stains
Decadence! Rot! You fall!
Perun’s lightning cracks the wall!
One last charge, one final call!
Slavic soul, forged in fire!
Bogatyr’s might, crush the liar!
Iron fist, no retreat!
Hammer falls, Western defeat!
"...The dawn is ours. The West is ash."
Hammer of the Steppe
© Copyright: Андрей Шишкин 5, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126081905621
Свидетельство о публикации №126081905621
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