Grievous times will sure befall thee,
Danger, slaughterous fire--
Thou shalt on a charger gallop,
Curbing at desire;
And a saddle girth all silken
Sadly I will sew,
Slumber now my wide-eyed darling,
Lullaby, By-low!

When I see thee, my own Being,
As a Cossack true,
Must I only convoy give thee--
"Mother dear, adieu!"
Nightly in the empty chamber
Blinding tears will flow,
Sleep my angel, sweetest dear one,
Lullaby, By-low!

Thy return I'll wait lamenting
As the days go by,
Ardent for thee praying,--fearing
In the cards to spy.
I shall fancy thou wilt suffer,
As a stranger grow--
Sleep while yet thou nought regrettest,
Lullaby, By-low!

I will send a holy image
'Gainst the foe with thee,