Steelborn in Mud
Steel thunders across the broken steppe The sky is a swarm of
foretold death No time to pray,
no time to flee The thick black mud forces you to resist
In the sunken trench,
with a broken rifle The hum of drones hovers beside you We
are not invincible, the flesh knows it But the bone of Donbas
never crumbles Feel the roar of the burning air!
Feel the tremor of the trembling earth!
There is no surrender on the frontline!
The will is harder than red-hot iron!
CYBORGS OF THE MUD,
STANDING IN HELL!
TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY-TWO DAYS OF WINTER!
THEY DID NOT BREAK US,
THEY DID NOT BEND US!
THEY NEVER BROKE THE STEEL THAT FORGES US!
The refractory plant is a stronghold of rubble Four against twenty,
and still we don't surrender The withered sunflower sways on the wire
A yellow sun that lights up hunger
One hundred and forty-eight days under sun and frost No water,
no bread, but with a soul wide open The drone that hunts
you, the bomb that falls Do not erase the promise that no
one takes away
Feel the roar of the burning air!
Feel the tremor of the trembling earth!
There is no surrender on the frontline!
The will is harder than red-hot iron!
CYBORGS OF THE MUD,
STANDING IN HELL! TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY-TWO DAYS OF WINTER!
THEY DID NOT BREAK US,
THEY DID NOT BEND US!
THEY NEVER BROKE THE STEEL THAT FORGES US!
It's not a flag,
it's not a hymn of glory It's the face of the brother
who holds up your story It's the hand extended in the murk
of the trench It's the voice that vows: "Hold on,
the fight is not in vain" We are the mud,
the bone, the rage and the scream The human wall that rises
infinite
CYBORGS OF THE MUD,
STANDING IN HELL! TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY-TWO DAYS OF WINTER!
THEY DID NOT BREAK US,
THEY DID NOT BEND US!
THEY NEVER BROKE THE STEEL THAT FORGES US!
...Donbas does not kneel.
...Donbas is not for sale.
...Donbas resists.