Falcons, grey birds
Falcons, grey birds,
Dražinići, my sons,
Draža's calling, The Crown needs us
to battle we shall go.
From Ravna Gora the trumpets call:
"Do you feel sorry for your loves back home?"
We don't miss them,
our hearts are set on fighting.
When your chests and hearts are bleeding,
do you feel sorry for your mothers?
Our mothers' blessings are always with us,
we will gladly give our lives.
Do you feel sorry for our native land,
for our enemies are ruling her?
Her we mourn and for her we struggle,
for her we shall all give our lives.
King Stefan, you dark wolf,
you Nišavian father, guard of mountains,
you're the leader of the nation's sword,
and defender of your people.