…At last in life the hordeman measured
By head the steppe above the river…
The horses nearer, faces are vile,
And sabers crossed, sabers clashed,
The sparkles got entangled with blood,
Again, with scream manhunter pierced
The Pridneprovie, in death fear…
But steel raged and raged again,
Sibilant blood hissed and froth hissed,
The Cossack covered the valley
With foes corpses by all his might,
By skill of Sich and war campaign
On glorious Don – brothers taught him fight.
Yet Cossack kills hordemen in riverford,
Fear starts to embrace hordemen:
- “This is shaitan!
Not a Cossack!” –
But Cossack grins in long mustache:
- “I’m not at first kicks [bad word] of shaitans!
Now you’ll realize who’s the Cossack,
That known among the folk as Mak” –
And again, the steel in [bad word] Clashing above the raging water,
The river floods subhumans dead –
No strength, no power can’t broke Cossack.
But behold the black [bad word] 
Dreg, rabble sneaked up from behind,
He’s assassin with reptile soul,
He’s all for sale, just give a coin.
On quite the traitor raised his weapon,
Gunshot pealed wide above the river
And Cossack fell on horse’s back.
- “It’s end of Cossack! Mak is dead!” -
The [bad word] straight to him
But Cossack severely looked at them:
- “No, cutthroats, I am not dead,
For I shall bloom among my folk!” –
Cutthroats raising up their weapons:
- “The blossom of your life had left you!
Now, Cossack, how we shall do:
To poppy seeds by sabers cut you!..” –
The hordemen shredded, cut the warrior,
His white body fell onto the ground,
And like a seeds it had grew up,
At summer it blossomed with poppy red…
The hordemen and a jewlike traitor
Are long forgotten by my land’s folk,
For morbid harvest of their traice
Was overgrown by wild dead weeds.
And poppyflowers are still blossoming, -
For ages they bloom in wide expanse,
In plait of girl and in the vast field!
And poppyflowers are blossoming!