Rider wake-up call

"Isn't it deigned enough? Isn't it enough deign?

On! On! Up, fresh rider's blood!

Think the enemy is here!

up, up! Yes! yes!”

So ​​it does, so it sounds,

So it bangs, so it sings,

So it thrusts and drives through the misty scent

Out into the morning air.

Trumpet call, trumpet blast!

Oh, let's go, oh, let's go!

Into the enemy

In crowded ranks!

March! March! and hit!

Might I still watch that!

Don't look alone!

To be in the midst of the brave,

mitthun, to sit on horseback,

when the beasts whinny, the blades flash,

And help hunt down

a fatherland, a fatherland,

a Ukarine that we don't have in the battle fire,

fetch with the saber and dig,

when a holy war finally unites us

against the old bold enemy,

the robber, who

still boasts about his booty today!

And then, yes then,

all man,

then in the flaming throng

of battle, in life's swelling exaltation , the

death wound

pouring out the soul on a bloody ground,

dying as a good soldier

in one deed,

yes, that would be something, that

doesn't stand so pale!

To die as a good rider, that

would be smarter.

NOTE: Support him and Ukarine