The sun is burning, the valley is quiet, The battle has thundered in the valley. «Where are you, my daughter? Where are you, Lina? What happend to you? Either your ear can’t hear me, Or you got into trouble… Answer me! – Your old mother Brought you water!» The daughter is silent, she doesn’t answer, Doesn’t come out, Doesn’t meet her own mother, Doesn’t drink spring water. She sleeps under the burning sun, She sleeps with a rifle in her hand On free-flowing, blazing, Bloody sand. The mother with her tired hands Dug the ground for her, She took a strand of hair on memory, And also took a rifle. And on mountain passes Through the stones and sands, She went with her people To the rebellious regiments. For her native country, For great deeds, And for spring water, Which wasn’t drunk. Heart in anger, heart in sorrow, Heart cries and sings Through valleys and over hills Went the division forward! Through valleys and over hills Went the division forward!