U litnyu teplu nich nasnyvsya son meni,
Z tvoyich sumnych ochey pokotylas' sloza,
Rozmova vich-na-vich, i ya dav slovo tobi,
Podali vid lyudey, skazala, budu sama.

Poplach... Poplach...
Poplach... Poplach...
Choch ne za mnoyu, ale poplach.

Z mriylyvymy zoryamy, shcho kochayut'sya svitankom tam,
Povernus' ya odyn i yak zavzdy ni z chym,
Chvylyna radosti, a dali smutok, pechal...
Navishcho ce meni? Ya budu krashche, yak ty... cam...

Poplach... Poplach...
Poplach... Poplach...
Poplach... Poplach...
Choch ne za mnoyu, ale poplach.