Russian Folk Song

Oh, you legendary land, Much-suffering land, More than once consumed by fire, My Holy Rus. I was born and raised here, Dreaming of a life of freedom, Which, through no fault of my own, I was deprived of from birth. Here there are highly skilled Masters of all kinds, And the wondrous Russian maidens Are beautiful and tender. Crowning the Russian land, Glorious in its beauty, The golden-domed capital, Oh, Mother Moscow. Here in their palaces and mansions, Sitting on long benches, Are long-bearded oaks, The boyars and the princes. Oh, Sovereign, do not be angry — No matter how smart you might be, With so many bastards in charge locally, What kind of progress can there be?