!
Where the burial fires once burned like flame!
RIDE! RIDE!

DAUGHTERS OF THE STEPPE
Intro — distant horns, hoofbeats
From the Don to the Danube,
Where the endless grasses roll,
Under skies without a master,
Rode the daughters of the storm.
Not a kingdom carved in marble,
Not a tale the cities kept—
Steel was buried with their bodies,
On the boundless Pontic steppe!
Verse I
Before the walls of empires rose,
Before the northern kingdoms came,
The Scythian riders crossed the plain,
And every distant court knew their name.
Beyond the ports of Black Sea Greeks,
Beyond Olbia’s merchant flame,
Where horse and bow decided fate,
The eastern riders staked their claim.
Then from the sunrise came another host,
Sarmatian banners filled the sky,
Roxolani, Alans riding,
Across the grasslands far and wide.
And in their ranks the women mounted,
Bow and blade within their hand—
Hunting, riding into battle,
Daughters of the open land!
Pre-Chorus
The Greeks would write,
The graves would speak—
Of armed women
Of the steppe!
Chorus
Ride! Ride! Daughters of the steppe!
Thunder underneath you, iron at your side!
Ride! Ride! Where the wild winds sweep!
No wall could hold you, no road could bind!
Amazon legend, Sarmatian blood,
Born where the horsemen ruled the flood—
From Black Sea shores to the eastern dawn:
Daughters of the steppe—ride on!
Verse II
Herodotus carried an ancient tale:
Amazon women crossed the sea,
Met the warriors of Scythia,
And from their union came a legacy.
He wrote of women dressed for battle,
Riding with their husbands to war,
Hunting beneath the open heavens,
Following no sheltered law.
Was it legend? Was it memory?
Ancient voices intertwine—
But beneath the burial mounds
Weapons rested by their side.
Sword and arrow, horse and harness,
Earth preserving what was kept—
Not alone the songs of strangers:
Warrior women of the steppe!
Pre-Chorus
The tale may fade,
The earth does not—
Beneath the grass
The weapons sleep!
Chorus
Ride! Ride! Daughters of the steppe!
Thunder underneath you, iron at your side!
Ride! Ride! Where the wild winds sweep!
No wall could hold you, no road could bind!
Amazon legend, Sarmatian blood,
Born where the horsemen ruled the flood—
From Black Sea shores to the eastern dawn:
Daughters of the steppe—ride on!
Verse III
Greek ships glittered by the coastline,
Wine and silver crossed the sea,
Grain and honey left the harbors,
East met west in rivalry.
Scythian kings and Greek-born cities,
Trade and warfare side by side,
Till Sarmatian power gathered
And the older lords declined.
Four long centuries they wandered,
Tent and wagon, herd and spear,
From the Don toward the Dnipro,
Their mounted columns drawing near.
Then came Goth and Hun and empire,
New migrations swept the plain—
Kingdoms vanished like the hoofprints
Washed away beneath the rain.
Bridge — half-time, heavy drums
But the earth remembers.
Under kurgans,
Under grass,
Under centuries of silence—
A blade.
A bow.
A woman laid to rest in arms.
Not merely myth.
Not merely song.
The rider sleeps—
But the legend rides on!
Guitar Solo — galloping rhythm
Final Chorus
RIDE! RIDE! DAUGHTERS OF THE STEPPE!
Thunder underneath you, iron at your side!
RIDE! RIDE! WHERE THE WILD WINDS SWEEP!
No wall could hold you, no road could bind!
Amazon legend, Sarmatian blood,
Across the ancient Black Sea world—
Horse and arrow, wind and dawn:
DAUGHTERS OF THE STEPPE—RIDE ON!
RIDE! RIDE! REMEMBER THEIR NAME!
Where the burial fires once burned like flame!
RIDE! RIDE! THROUGH THE AGES DEEP!
The grass still moves where the warriors sleep!
From Scythian tale to Sarmatian grave,
The ancient steppe remembers the brave—
When history fades and kingdoms are gone:
Outro — choir over fading hoofbeats
Ride on...
Ride on...
Where the Black Sea meets the endless sky,
Where the ancient burial mounds still lie—
Ride on.