Zhynuv strilec' v chystim poli,
Dovho vin plakav, rydav,
Svoyich druziv-tovaryshiv
Dovho vin, dovho blahav:

"Virni druzi-tovaryshi,
Tam ne lyshayte mene!
Skoro zamknu svoyi ochi,
Tak pochovayte mene!"

Zhynuv, druzi pochovaly,
Chrest na mohyli stoyav...
Teper ni chresta, ni mohyly,
Hen, chtos' pluhom zorav.