Sered staryh plyt

Sered staryh plyt nemodnyh znayu
Pisnyu ya zvychainuyu, sumnu
I, lysh vechir pryide, ya i hrayu,
I spivayu pisenku ocyu:

Pryspiv:
Ty bud zdorova, bo vze ostannya nasha nich,
Ty bud shchaslyva – bilsh ne pobachu tvoyih vich.
Ya vze ne vernu. Proshchai, kohana ty moya,
I bud shchaslyva, a ya sam pidu v zyttya.

Bo zyttya take nashe korotke,
Vse vono proide na chuzyni,
Holovu pokryye syvyi volos,
A u mene lysh dumky odni.

Pryspiv

I, vidkryvshy syni ochi, mriyu,
Yuni spomynayuchy lita,
V moyim serci mylu ya leliyu,
Shepchu yii na ushko ci slova.

Pryspiv