I am the dead men in burnt bus,
I am the house turned to dust.
Je m’appelle Donbass. Je m’appelle Donbass.
When people love, they sing and dance,
Whether in Donbass or in France;
And in the cellars of Lugansk
They still believe in their chance
To overcome this blood and pain,
That their suffering’s not in vain…
People need hope — it’s a must.
Je suis Donbass. Nous sommes Donbass.