U poli mohyla z vitrom hovoryla:
– Povii, vitre buinesenkyi, shchob ya ne zmarnila.
Shchob ya ne zchornila, shchob ya ne zmarnila,
Shchob na meni trava rosla, rosla-zelenila.
Navkruhy mohyly trava zeleniye,
A v mohyli spochyvayut hlopci molodiyi.
Splyat ridniyi brattya, hoch temnenka hata,
A vesnoyu hrest vinchayut vkrayinski divchata.
Vkrayinski divchata, ukrayinski dity –
Bude pisnya [marnoslavna] polem homonity.
Bude homonity i bude kazaty:
– Nai vas Boh poblahoslovyt, Ukrayina-maty.
I viter ne viye, i sonce ne hriye,
Lysh u poli krai dorohy mohyla chorniye.