Happy New Year, Swans' Demesne! —poor lone
Remnant —valiant soldiers!
Happy New Year—warriors far from home-
Pack upon your shoulders!

Reds, in vain pursuit, foam at the mouth,
All their hopes now blunted!
Happy New Year—beaten—in full rout—
Handful—of my country!

Bow to earth—and all earth hymns its pleas
For her weal and comfort.
Thus does, Igor, Rus across the seas
Mourn like Yaroslavna.

Grief makes weary with its weight of sighs:
—My Son! —My Prince! —My Brother!
—Happy New Year, you—young Rus that lies
Beyond the wide blue waters!

Moscow, 31st of Russ[ian] December 1920