Take us to where our loves are pining....
The Cossacks have their dance begun,
The dance of joy, in the sun, in the sun.
Blue sea! On the sea with the wind they’re dancing—
Our brothers surely are advancing
From prison chains the sad to free.
O swiftly come, o’er the sea, o’er the sea!
Cuckoo, calls the Cuckoo....
In the dawn, in the dawn the Sultan sleeping
Is wakened by the sound of weeping—