Текст песни 210 - Песня свободного человека

In vain whistling whips
They want to frighten tyrants.
Unleash hundreds of black gangs,
Put the shackles on his hands.
Do not fear neither Siberia nor forts,
Sword lifted up above my head.
And though zakuyut hands and feet,
Blinded me imperious hand.

Chorus:
Soul I am a free man,
So I'll be a century!
Soul I am a free man,
So I'll be a century!

I would like to have all the aches and pains,
When hunger has driven a dead end too.
The more we keep trying to freedom,
The less it comes to us.
In vain propaganda sweeps
Vile despots over the earth,
But the will of the bonds in zakuetsya,
Oppressive power loop.

Chorus:
Soul I am a free man,
So I'll be a century!
Soul I am a free man,
So I'll be a century!

After all, people can not pay off the sun,
Put out like a candle, the clarity of the day
And freedom of despots can not,
It will smooth the sun!