Snih v hayu, ale vesnoyu
Roziv’yet'sya hay.
Moze doleyu yasnoyu
Zacvite miy kray.
V nebi mla, a sonce hlyane, –
Mla roztane vmyt'.
Moze, miy narod povstane, –
Morem zashumyt'!

Son, ale vsyu zemlyu zbude
Zayvoron-honec'.
Nu koly, miy sonnyi lyude,
Znaydesh snu kinec'?
Smert', ale yiyi zadushe
Pisnya, smich i ruch.
Nu skazy, narodna dushe,
Chy zyvyi tviy duch?

Na oblychchi rabstva tuha,
Bezprosvitnya mla.
De z to hordist' tvoho ducha –
Vilnoho orla?
Shcho vona tobi robyla,
Yak viky ty hnyv,
Pochornilaya mohyla
Miz zelenych nyv?!

Yak vulkan stoyish ty, zhaslyi,
Ale chuyu ya,
Shcho v dushi tvoyiy prekrasniy
More shche ohnya.
Viryu ya, shcho oborone
Sam sebe miy kray.
O, miy veletnyu Samsone,
Puta rozryvay!