Warden of the Boiling Divide (Zmey Gorynych / Змей Горыныч)

Black pitch is boiling in Smorodina's bed, Carving the line 'twixt the quick and the dead. The Kalinov bridge glowing red in the dark, No trespass or crossing that calcified spark. Three iron snouts watching under the ridge, No wandering spirit slips over the bridge. The border is sealed where the white embers glow, Turn back to the light or get dragged down below. No silver or gold in the vaults of the deep, No coin in the caverns he carves in the steep! He plunders the bloodline, he hoards what is breath, Sovereign heirs locked in the chambers of death! The whirlwind descends on the Sorochinsky stone, The living power gathered to sit by his throne! To sit by his throne! To sit by.. his throne! A shadow tears down through the Kievan skies, A whirlwind of iron where princes arise. He carries the daughters of royalty bound, To Sorochinsky caverns carved deep underground. No metal or jewels in his stone-hollowed keep, Just bloodlines and sovereigns kept buried and deep. The border is sealed where the white embers glow, Turn back to the light or get dragged down below. No silver or gold in the vaults of the deep, No coin in the caverns he carves in the steep! He plunders the bloodline, he hoards what is breath, Sovereign heirs locked in the chambers of death! The whirlwind descends on the Sorochinsky stone, The living power gathered to sit by his throne! To sit by his throne.. Deep in the roots where the mountains stand dry, The cold mountain aquifers wither and die. He locks up the moisture and strangles the spring, A famine of dust on the realm of the king. The drought settles heavy across the cracked plains, Till living fresh water is bled from his veins. The border is sealed where the white embers glow, Turn back to the light or get dragged down below. No silver or gold in the vaults of the deep, No coin in the caverns he carves in the steep! He plunders the bloodline, he hoards what is breath, Sovereign heirs locked in the chambers of death! The whirlwind descends on the Sorochinsky stone, The living power gathered to sit by his throne! Iron perimeter, boundary of bone, Warden of malice surrounding the throne. Guarding the secret where mortality sleeps: The iron-bound chest in the heart of the deeps. The hare, and the duck, and the egg in the core, The needle unbroken forevermore! No silver or gold in the vaults of the deep, No coin in the caverns he carves in the steep! He plunders the bloodline, he hoards what is breath, Sovereign heirs locked in the chambers of death! The whirlwind descends on the Sorochinsky stone, The living power gathered to sit by his throne! The river runs black. The needle stays whole. No silver or gold in the vaults of the deep, No coin in the caverns he carves in the steep! He plunders the bloodline, he hoards what is breath, Sovereign heirs locked in the chambers of death! The whirlwind descends on the Sorochinsky stone, The living power gathered to sit by his throne! The river runs black... The needle.. stays whole.