Ne ljubyt

Ty znov odna, i znov shukayesh hory.
Pusta trava, ty zaplyla u more.
Ty dyvyshsya, na stomlenu zirkamy
Haryachu krov, shcho hodyt pomiz namy

Pryspiv:
My buly razom, ale nache ni.
Ya buv vidvertyi
Ty brehala meni...

Pusti slova, i posmishka lukava...
Meni potribna, ale krashche vyp’yu kavy.
I z medom buly usi moyi cilunky,
Otruta – ce tvoyi podarunky...

Pryspiv (3)