Fearless they ride, an untamed pride
Centuries of tradition, for freedom the cry

May your sers shine again
Let your whips crack again
Let live the tales of infamy
Never to be enslaved, you ride free

Cossack!

Like generations before, for homeland the fought
Under the eagke and under the cross
Mounted in glory, for freedom you ride
Master of the steppe, an ancient oride

Death over slavery, for tradition they would die
To give in to the Kremlin, is to give in to a lie
Loyal to the czar, loyal to the creed
Set out for vengeance, with your savers and steeds

Ride east fearless ones
ride east, let justice be done

 [bad word] sons of the natione, ride hard
Your time is now, a changing of the guard
Your [bad word] deep, your course is set
You are the masters, the masters of the steppe