Na dobranich, lyubi druzi,
Ne zenit' vid sebe sny –
Spyt' vze Misyac' v synokruzi,
Umovkaye rich sosny.

Ospivaly my vsi hory,
Pro lyubov zhadaly tez,
A nasnyt'sya nechay more,
Sonce v nebi zolote.

Na dobranich, lyubi druzi,
I spasybi vam usim:
Chto spivav, chto tilky sluchav
I pro ridnyi mriyav dim.

Zavtra shlyach do perevalu,
Haryuvaty nam ves' den,
Do novoho toz pryvalu
I novych, novych pisen.

Spyt' vze Misyac' v synokruzi,
Umovkaye rich sosny,
Na dobranich, lyubi druzi,
Chay vam snyat'sya myli sny!