Stohne ridna moya,
Soncya v neyi ne maye.
De ya prytulok shukayu,
Chmara chuza.
Znykly spravzni heroyi,
Porosly travoyu,
Nichto ne znayde, nichto ne zhadaye
Yichnye im’ya...

Shcho to za chmara, yaka nad namy?
Bilshe ne moze, zemle, spaty.
Shcho to za chmara, chorna prymara?
My povstayemo, Dity Soncya!

Stohne ridna moya
Z chasu, koly my viddaly
Zemlyu tym, chto ne z namy,
Volyu – hrosham.
Pravda tilky odna,
Pravda – bat'kova mriya,
Ridnu zemlyu lyubyty.
Mabut', ce nasha ostannya nadiya!