Dolyny padayut i tulyatsya do nih,
Zvyvayut zavoyi, vidsahuyuchys, hory.
Nash pruznyi krok tverda zemlya dorih
Strichaye stohonom pokory.
Chy z ne pidib’yem, ne zirvemo my
I obrii cei, i hmary ci rozevi?!
I vohkyi viter duzymy hrudmy
Spivaye na moyim mechevi.
***
Pryxodyly. Strichaly shanu i strah,
Zdolavshy bahna, pushchi i vertepy.
Prynosyly v prypljushchenyh ochah
Svoye blakytno-zelenave nebo.
My ne zaznaly radosty. Buly
Yih pestoshchi rvuchki i nebudenni.
Zryvalysya. Zbyralysya i ishly.
Yim skriz buly krayi shche bilsh pivdenni.
I dity ci, vony uze teper
Tikayut v hory, nache vovchenyata,
I v nyh pid cholom – synyava ozer,
Nespokii hvyl i dalech neobnyata.
Samitnya neskinchenna tropa
Tam, de zakinchuyutsya obriyi
Nebo u nashyh nih