Return of the Cossacks from a Distant Campaign

A long time on foreign lands Twenty-five years, yet old men at heart A long time their blades were dulled Greeting dawn and dusk in the saddle Past the seas and the mountains Toward their native expanses Toward their native expanses The Cossacks gallop on Toward outlines dear to the heart Drawing closer with every passing hour And no longer quite so foreign is the Dust kicked up by their hooves A hundred roads traversed through battle Taking their rest by the river The beloved scents of their homeland The Cossacks recognized The beloved scents of their homeland The Cossacks recognized On the banks of the Don, by the quiet waves, Where the amorous mist embraces the grass, On the banks of the Don, where the reeds dream their dreams, I will break my rifle and tear off my epaulettes...