Zholosyvsya do povstanciv
Ta pishov iz nymy v lis,
Tam pryinyaly mene v sotnyu,
Daly shapku, daly kris.

Vyishov misyac' iz-za chmary,
Ya na stiyci nad yarom,
Druzi polozylys' spaty,
Splyat' spokiynym tychym snom.

Pidnyav ochi ya do neba,
Molyu Bohu "Otche nash".
Boze! Ty ye Velykodushnyi,
Vchorony usich Ty nas!

I zhadav starenku matir,
Bat'ka, brata i sestru,
Yaki tyazko prozyvayut'
Na zaslanni v Sybiru.

Lis dlya mene – ridna chata,
A povstanci – ce sim’ya.
Borotys' do zahynu,
Za Vkrayinu y dam zyttya!