The night is still young.
And the memory warms us,
I want to tell you about Kulnev,
Say, have you heard it yet?
That was a real man of the people,
both die and live he knew how to,
The best, where the battle was hot,
the best, where it was drunk.

To fight, fight, night and day,
That was his pasttime;
To fall was only the flower
on a hero's life.
What weapon you held in your hand,
was the same, as long as you fell,
In battle or game,
with sabre or glass.

And to love was his heart's desire,
and just as free and swift his choice:
He could come from a bloody skirmish
And then throw a banquet;
And having partied all night long,
He took the shoe of his dear
and filled it with the nearest drink
Then drank and bid farewell.

You should have seen his face!
crowning many a wall
among pictures one of a different kind,
A picture of only beard;
As you come closer you see
A mouth smiles under all that beard,
His eyes, open, warm and mild,
That is for sure Kulnev's picture.

Although you had to be secure and veteran,
to not fall pale at his chock;
If you were the least afraid of the devil,
you were afraid of him as well;
At a distance, the pure sight of him,
scared you more than pike and shot,
and rather you looked towards his slash,
than towards his black beard.

He was seen coming forth
with sabre ready and in wild career,
And thus he was, they say,
when he sometimes rested for a while,
Clad in his short fur,
from farm to farm he went
and stayed as friend and guest,
Wherever he liked the most.

Still many a mother speak
of their fear as without permission,
straight to the cradle Kulnev went forth,
where her little darling was asleep.
"But", she says, "he only kissed
my child so tenderly, and smiled,
as now, like on his picture on the wall,
if only you closer are."

Certain is, that in the right light
Old Kulnev was good as gold;
they blame him for drinking too much,
that was the debt of his heart;
And this heart he carried along,
When he fell, when he fought:
When he kissed or when he killed
with the same warm spirit.

There were names in the Russian army,
which wrote their names in history,
who were brought here at the bosom of reputation,
long before the war was on.
Barclay, Kamenskij, Bagration,
Every son of Finland knew them,
and hard battles there were,
where these men came forth.

But Kulnev noone knew,
Before the flame of War was alight;
Then he came like the storm at sea,
Hardly even thought of, before he was known,
Then he broke loose like the lightning in the sky,
So great, and likewise so new,
And not forgotten in our land
from the first blow he gave.

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