Strilec'ka mohyla z vitrom hovoryla:
– Poviy, vitre buynesenkyi, shchob ya ne zmarnila.

Shchob ya ne zmarnila, shchob ya ne zchornila,
Shchob na meni trava rosla ta y sya zelenila.

Spit', moyi orlyata, choch temnaya chata,
Bo vesnoyu chrest vinchayut' vkrayins'ki divchata.

Vkrayins'ki divchata, ukrayins'ki dity,
Bude pisnya marnoslavna volyu homonity.

Bude homonity ta y bude kazaty:
Nay vas Boh blahoslovlyaye, Ukrayina-maty.