It is year in 681.

The mist so thick had scattered away 

Hazy sunset enlightened majestic silhouette 

Dark - red shadow set people's soul on fire 

He was their trusted Leader 

His armour still flashing out the silver moonlight 

In the Night of the choice



Picked up in his heart all courage and pain 

Of Protobulgarian warriors fallen 

Waving the powerful sword in his iron hand 



If you can hear and feel all this, 

Then you will see his sword stabbed in the mud

And his roar splitting the ground 

"May this be Bulgaria!

With its glory, may glory all the tribe,

When it suffers, may we all suffer!

Now's time to fight out our land 

And coming through thousands of battle 

Will end up in his great cause!"