It is year in 681.

The mist so thick had scattered away

Hazy sunset enlightened majestic silhouette

Dark - red shadow set people's soul on fire

He was their trusted Leader

His armour still flashing out the silver moonlight

In the Night of the choice



Picked up in his heart all courage and pain

Of Protobulgarian warriors fallen

Waving the powerful sword in his iron hand



If you can hear and feel all this,

Then you will see his sword stabbed in the mud

And his roar splitting the ground

"May this be Bulgaria!

With its glory, may glory all the tribe,

When it suffers, may we all suffer!

Now's time to fight out our land

And coming through thousands of battle

Will end up in his great cause!"