Chyorni Voron.

The black raven, the other oft-recorded song, is one of the oldest Cossack ballads, but the date and author are disputed. Compare and contrast with the twa corbies.
It's very haunting.

×åðíûé âîðîí

×åðíûé âîðîí, ÷åðíûé âîðîí,
×òî òû âüåøüñÿ íàäî ìíîé?
Òû äîáû÷è íå äîæäåøüñÿ,
×åðíûé âîðîí, ÿ íå òâîé!

×òî òû êîãòè ðàñïóñêàåøü
Íàä ìîåþ ãîëîâîé?
Èëü äîáû÷ó ñåáå ÷àåøü?
×åðíûé âîðîí, ÿ íå òâîé!

Çàâÿæó ñìåðòåëüíó ðàíó
Ïîäàðåííûì ìíå ïëàòêîì,
À ïîòîì ñ òîáîé ÿ ñòàíó
Ãîâîðèòü âñå îá îäíîì.

Ïîëåòè â ìîþ ñòîðîíêó,
Ñêàæè ìàìåíüêå ìîåé,
Òû ñêàæè ìîåé ëþáåçíîé,
×òî çà ðîäèíó ÿ ïàë.

Îòíåñè ïëàòîê êðîâàâûé
Ìèëîé ëþáóøêå ìîåé.
Òû ñêàæè — îíà ñâîáîäíà,
ß æåíèëñÿ íà äðóãîé.

Âçÿë íåâåñòó òèõó-ñêðîìíó
 ÷èñòîì ïîëå ïîä êóñòîì,
Îáâåí÷àëüíà áûëà ñâàõà —
Ñàáëÿ âîñòðàÿ ìîÿ.

Êàëåíà ñòðåëà âåí÷àëà
Ñðåäè áèòâû ðîêîâîé.
Âèæó, ñìåðòü ìîÿ ïðèõîäèò,
×åðíûé âîðîí, âåñü ÿ òâîé.

Äâå ïîñëåäíèå ñòðîêè ïîâòîðÿþòñÿ

Chyorny Voren

Chyorny voren, chyorny voron,
shto ty vyoshsa nada mnoy?
ty dabychi nye dazhdyoshsa,
chyorny voren, ya nye tvoy!

Shto ty kogti raspuskayesh
nad moyeyu galavoy?
il' dabychu sebye chayesh?
chyorny voren, ya nye tvoy!

Zavyazhu smyertelnu ranu
padaryenym mnye platkom,
a patom s taboy ya stanu
gavarit vsyo ab adnom.

palyeti v mayu staronku,
skazhi mamenkye mayey,
ty skazhi mayey lyubyeznoy,
shto za rodinu ya pal.

Atnyesi platok krovavy
miloy lyubushkye mayey.
ty skazhi - ana svabodna,
ya zhyenilsa na drugoy.

Vzyal nyevestu tikhu-skromnu
v chistom polye pod kustom,
abvyenchalna byla svakha -
sablya vostraya maya.

Kalyena stryela vyenchala
sryedi butvy rakavoy.
vizhu, smyert maya prikhodit,
chyorny voren, vyes ya tvoy.

(repeat the last 2 lines)

Black Raven

Black raven, black raven,
why do you circle overhead?
can't you wait your spoils,
black raven, I'm not yours!

Why do you spread your talons
over my head?
or do you hope for your spoils?
black raven, I'm not yours!

I'll bind my mortal wound
with my kerchief, a gift to me,
and then we will
discuss the matter.

Fly to my place,
tell my mum,
you tell my kind one,
that for the motherland I fell.

Carry my bloody kerchief
to my dear true-love.
tell her - she is free,
I have married another.

I've taken a quiet-unassuming bride
in an empty field under the shrubs,
The matron has been crowned (Russian Orthdox wedding rituals)-
My lively sabre.

The unerring arrow has crowned too,
amidst the fateful battle.
I can see my death approaching,
black raven, I'm all yours.

The last two lines are repeated.