THUNDER OVER KODAK
I. The Fortress of Slavery
On the wild cliff where the rapids roar,
Kodak rose — a stone bastion.
He could cut off the Cossack path,
Having locked the will in an iron sleep.
Foreign banners, the snarl of hostile cannons,
The Polish garrison guards the steppes...
But he did not know the mighty enemy:
Sulima is already coming — to break the chains.
II. Night Attack
The thresholds sleep... But Sulyma does not sleep.
The black night spread like tar.
Behind the shoulders — an invisible force,
In the heart — rage that grew in captivity.
They did not walk — they crawled, like vipers in the grass,
They did not breathe — drank thick fog.
Suddenly — a flash! In fiery skirmishes
Kodak trembled, the golden lock.
III. The Fight for Freedom
The cannons flew upside down,
The oak gates creaked.
This is Sulyma who came to count,
How much blood and hardness has swallowed!
A short whistle — and the hooks flew up,
Like falcons, people soared onto the walls.
The Poles trembled, the warriors fell,
For death came from where it was not expected, everywhere.
IV. The Ashes of the Empire
He stood on the ruins like a avenger,
Golden medal — the sun in smoke.
He is for freedom — a living herald,
What will tear both eternity and darkness.
"Build, Lya, at least walls to the sky,
Though you forge the threshold in steel —
The Cossack only needs the sky,
So that he preserves his freedom!
V. The Echo of Ages
It roared, it roared over the Luh,
Rolled like an echo into the steppes:
Sulyma passed with Kodak-plough —
And the chains crumbled to dust.
Only the chilly Dnipro wave
Washing the rocks from ash and evil...
Thus the national soul has been forged,
Thus the immortal feat has risen.
EPILOGUE: HEIRS OF THUNDER
Centuries have passed... But the sky is the same.
The Dnipro flows to the sea just the same.
But above us, the modern sons,
Sulyma's shadow stands restlessly.
The names have changed, the cannons have changed,
But again from the east — the invader's smoke.
And again we have to tear down walls,
So that the land remains forever young.
Today's knights — in pixels, in steel,
They carry their Kodak on their own shoulders.
In every heart — mainline fires,
What will burn out deceit, darkness, and fear.
Our courage is not measured in gold,
And by the fidelity of the land where the ancestors lie.
In hands — not a sabre, but an oath of truth,
And the spirit of Sulyma — through hellish fires.
We are the sparks of that same otherworldly fire,
What Kodak burned in the night silence.
We are the brothers and sisters of holy freedom,
Tempered in sorrow, in a sacred war.
And as long as heroes stand at the threshold,
As long as behind the shoulders — both faith and kin,
There will be no such power-weapon in the world,
That can tame our Cossack march!
For happiness is a moment forged in battle,
This is freedom that we will not give to anyone.
It was once gifted by Sulyma —
And we bring it home today.
...Well friends, schedules later..?