Za horamy, za krutymy

Za horamy, za krutymy holuby litaly.
Lita moyi molodyye marno propadaly.

Zapryahaite, hlopci, konei, konei voronyye.
Ta i poyidym dohanyaty lita molodyye.

– A my hnalys ta i dohnaly v sadu na pomosti.
Oi vernytsya, lita moyi, hoch na chas u hosti.

– Ne vernemos my do tebe, my tilko od tebe.
Bulo b tobi shanuvaty, yak buly my v tebe.

Chy my z’yily, chy my spyly, chy harno shodyly.
Tilky toho z i zhadayem, shcho vazko robyly.