Tortured, while, bound in irons,
Germans shall tear your flesh,
And there you’ll sleep for aye.”
SONG OF THE OPRISHKI[[39]]—(OUTLAWS)
Hai, Brethren, Oprishki—give me more horeevka![[40]]
On the camp-fire now heap on more wood.
If you tuned then my throat to the sound of Sopeevka,[[41]]
I’d sing for as long as I could.
We are safe just as long as the green grass is growing—
If the forest of leaves be not bare,