At night in forest depths profound,
We lay upon the cheerless ground,
Where on our route we chanced to be,
Nor couch nor coverlet had we
Between us and the turf or stones,
To soothe our tired and aching bones.
Our limbs emaciated grew,
Ragged were we and dirty, too,
As o'er the trans-Slavonian plains,
We dragged our grievous weight of chains.