Beneath the snow’s eternal veil,
Where whispers of the lost prevail,
The shadows dance in silent night,
Embraced by death’s cold, somber light.

In forests deep and rivers wide,
The spirits of the past reside,
Their stories etched in frozen ground,
A mournful, haunting, timeless sound.

The winds of sorrow softly sigh,
As winter’s breath begins to cry,
The echoes of a thousand years,
Reflect in ice, a nation’s tears.

Yet through the frost and endless cold,
The strength of souls, brave and bold,
Endures beyond the grasp of time,
In Russia’s heart, forever prime.