Over the field of death

I shall cross the snow-white field
I shall fly over the field of death
I shall search out the bright-eyed falcons
My husbands, my fine fellows
Some lie hacked by swords
Some lie pierced by an arrow
They have watered with their scarlet blood
The scared land, the Russian land
Whoever died a fine death for Russia
I shall kiss him on his lifeless eyes
I shall be the faithful and loving bride
Of that fine lad who survived the battle
I shall not take the handsome one to be my husband
Earthly beauty has its end
But I shall wed the brave one
Now answer me, bright-eyed falcons!

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