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A furious wind tears the sails, An old Varangian stands at the helm. Three ships will sink tomorrow, A common occurrence for a sailor Northern Fleet, Only forward. Bastards, take down the sails, Board the ship! There's no meat in the hold, the beer is gone. How much longer until the great Rome? It will be hard for us - it's bearable, As if a woman were waiting for us to make a profit. Northern Fleet, Only forward. Bastards, take down the sails, Board the ship! Wars are exhausted, the cold is burning, The Northern Fleet is heading nowhere. Our land is forgotten by God, The enemy will cry, it was all worth it!