V horach hrim hude, az zemlya hude,
Zemlyu sporoly harmaty.
Drozyt' zemlya, stohne vona,
Plachut' zraneni Karpaty.

Chto zyvyi, vstavay boronyty kray,
Shchob ne chodyt' manivcyamy,
Ne bude tobi sumno u borbi
Miz sichovymy strilcyamy.

A chto z to ide i pered vede?
Dyvo – ce nashi divchata:
Lychko yak mak, kruhom kozak,
Dusha strilec'ka zavzyata.

Ne ciluyte yich – na viyni ce hrich,
Lysh obnimayte dumkamy.
Slava tym dochkam, slavnym yunachkam,
Miz sichovymy strilcyamy.