Buly u nas kolys voly, ta i tato prodaly

Buly u nas kolys voly, ta i tato prodaly,
Bulo u nas kolys pole, ta i pany zabraly.

Zenyly mnya molodoho, do pustoyi haty,
Ta i kazaly: "Teper, synu, pochny hazduvaty".

Shcho robyty, shcho chynyty, zvidky hliba vzyaty?
Naimyv ya sya u panyska honty vyroblyaty.

Sydzu v lisi, teshu, struzu, a zinka skladaye,
U holodi, u holodi, az sya serce kraye.

Oi parshyva to robota – u pana robyty, –
Ai Hospody myloserdnyi, yak na sviti zyty?

Iznaishlysya dobri ljudy, mudru radu daly,
Hroshei meni pozychyly, yihaty kazaly.

V dalekuyu Ameryku, za shyroke more:
– Tam zarobysh ta i zabudesh svoyu bidu i hore.

U nedilju rano-vranci my z selom proshchalys,
Yak u cerkvi na utrenyu dzvonyty pochaly.

Zaturkotiv viz iz sela, dzvony vse dzvonyly,
Pisn proshchalnu dalekuyu vny nam holosyly.

Hory moyi vysokiyi, zeleni Karpaty,
Strihy moyi solom’yani, koly vas vydaty?

Kuda yihav, tuda yihav, ta ne pam’yatayu,
A vpynyvsya u Amburhu – to vze dobre znayu.

A v Amburhu tim nimeckim vzyaly nas ahenty,
Obstupyly, yak vorony, krychat: "Davai centy!"

Rano vzyavshy, ne vmyvavshy, krysta ne poklavshy,
Skriz vulyci, yak zlodiyiv, do shyfy nahnavshy.

Shcho tam bulo toho ljudu,– Hospod svyatyi znaye,
Z usih krayin, z vsoho svitu, – hto yih vidhadaye.

Buly shvaby, buly nimci, buly takoz hiny,
I slovaky, i madyary, buly i litviny,

Buly chehy i slovaky z rusko-polskei strany,
Buly zydy rosiiskiyi, madyarski cyhany.

Yak ta branza povlazyla na shyf velycheznyi,
Z tlumachkamy, z ditochkamy,– to buv vyd chudesnyi.

Zasvystaly, zahudily, daly volju pary,
Rushyly my v den pohidnyi – na nebi ni hmary.

Az piznishe strashni buri po mori hulyaly,
Yak ti myshi v buinim spizu, shyfu vyvertaly.

Kozdyi klyakav na kolina, hoch mala dytyna,
Bo to dumav: os tu mii hrih – morskaya hodyna.

Az nakonec – bulo vranci – my zemlju uzrily,
Popadaly na kolina, Bohu pisn-mo spily:

– Slava z tobi, Chryste-Boze, za toi dar velykyi,
Shcho ty pomih doyihaty do toi Ameryky.

Oi pishov ya v Ameryci roboty shukaty,
Nainyav ya sy na zavod molov trabuvaty.

Ne podobalas robota – molov traibuvaty,
Pishov ya v druhu fabryku, stav uhol kopaty.

Pid zemleyu ya pracyuyu, hrib sobi kopayu,
Shchob dovhy poviddavaty v svoyim ridnim krayu.

Dome ridnyi, krayu mylyi, ridnaya hatyno,
Zinko moya molodeika, mylaya dytyno!

Cherez hory, cherez morya d’vam lechu dumkoyu,
Vy meni pered ochyma, ne mayu spokoyu.

Lomytsya skala iz uhlya, ne zhory, a zboku,
Pomoz, Boze, dorobyty do novoho roku!

A potim ya pidu v svii krai, u ridnoye selo,
Tam z zinkoyu, z dytynoyu budu zyt veselo.

Uze p’yatyi rik mynaye, ya v pidzemnim doli,
Ya pracyuyu, ruk ne chuyu, z lampoyu na choli.

Poproshchavsya Ivan Duda z svoyimy druzyamy,
Naostatku vypyv charku iz tovaryshamy.

Poproshchavsya Ivan Duda z svoyimy bosamy,
Naostatku vypyv charku iz tovaryshamy.

Kruhom more, yak te pole, vse bulo rivnenke,
ivan na shyfu narikaye, shcho ide pomalenky.

– Oi rad by ya krylcya maty, sokolom zletity,
Oi vitaty zinku i matir, ciluvaty dity.

Skiknuv Ivan po kramnycyah, po shynkah znaiomyh
Ta i nakupyv podarunkiv, vzyav horilky v Shlomy.

Kupyv dityam chobotyata, zinci – kozushynu,
Starii mami – horilchyny dubruyu flyashchynu.

Ide, ide Ivan Duda tymy manivcyamy,
Kozdyi iomu krok znaiomyi, kuda buv z vivcyamy;

Ide, ide Ivan Duda ta i sobi dumaye,
Tam na hori hrest vysokyi – tam Ivan klyakaye.

Klyaknuv Ivan kolo hresta, Bohu pomolyvsya,
Shcho yakos vin do svoyeyi krayiny dobyvsya:

– Slava tobi, Chryste-Boze, za toi dar velykyi,
Shcho ty pomih sya vernuty z toyi Ameryky.

Ne raz skala vuhlyanaya triskala nadvoye,
Mnoho vbyla, ya shche zyvyi, Chryste, v im’ya tvoye.

Ustav Ivan pered hrestom, vklonyvsya nyzenko:
– Koby moyi doma znaly, shcho ya tak blyzenko,

To by vybihly iz haty mene pryvitaty
Ta i pomohty by i pakunky do haty zabraty.

Ide, ide Ivan Duda, vorota vtvoryaye,
Z ioho haty kryky, zoiky kriz vikno lunaye.

– Shcho takoye? – pytayesya Ivan molodyci.
– Zinka Dudy dnes umerla, a vin v Ameryci.

Ivan Duda zbozevoliv, do haty vpadaye,
Cholodnyi trup svoyi zinky slozamy vmyvaye.

Oi zaplakav Ivan Duda, slozamy umyvsya
Ta i ne zyvyi, ale mertvyi na dil povalyvsya.

Vze vny v chetver popoludnyu dva merci hovaly:
ivana Dudu z yeho zinkov v yednu yamu vklaly.

Na Velykden chuzi dity hralys krashankamy,
Ivanovi syrotyata vmyvalys slozamy.

Ta shcho z toho, shcho vny vbrani v novi chobotyata,
Koly vony sya zostaly kruhli syrotyata.