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The Patriot

Holy Blood

Our land groans from pain,
The Slavonic motherland cries.

Hey, Slavonic brother, our motherland waits,
Raise your sword as a patriot,
Protect the Slavonic land from evil,
From devilish intrigues, from heathen lies.

Wind carries the war call,
Be without pity, in the struggle with Satan.

Time of battle has begun already,
Raise your sword, throw away doubts,
God is with us in this war,
In the battle for souls in the Slavonic land.

The final of the battle is decided:
Good wins in the struggle with the evil.
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