DTN : Chérif Souleymane jette l’éponge

At the square there are three porlpas near the Cathedral wallEarly in the morning Cossacks sang in three trumpetsRed sun in the blue sky strickes into the golden bellsTogether we are still with force, we both are Cossacks.Three porlpas, three trumpetsEven echo is reaching the skyThree porlpas, three trumpetsEverything will be as it shouldWhether strict or sweet destiny gave us wingsOur work, our things are: saber, pipe and maceIn the open field there is a merry way, the only way with no endIt is not good to be sad for Cossacks from ZaporozhyeThree porlpas, three trumpetsEven echo is reaching the skyThree porlpas, three trumpetsEverything will be as it shouldThree porlpas, three trumpetsEven echo is reaching the skyThree porlpas, three trumpetsEverything will be as it shouldThree porlpas, three trumpetsEven echo is reaching the skyThree porlpas, three trumpetsEverything will be as it shouldThree porlpas, three trumpetsEven echo is reaching the skyThree porlpas, three trumpetsEverything will be as it should