Ce te, vid choho nemozlyvo zachystytys',
Sluchay...

My z vamy raneni strilamy amuriv,
My ye sturbovani, yakshcho nikoly ne zabudemo,
My, yak Ikary, vysoko zletily
I vtrachene kochannya nam zlamalo kryla.

My ye soldaty armiyi lyubovi,
Chystoyi, shlyachetnoyi, vid yakoyi bahato bolyu,
Moye serce rozirvane na shmatky,
Yake rozumiye zyttya tryvaye i treba dali yty.

Ce nasha achillesova p’yata,
Ce te, shcho ne znykaye bez slidu,
Nechay ce zalyshyt'sya nezrozumilym,
Nechay Bat'ko nam poverne syly.

Ya chasto sam sobi zadayu pytannya
Chy perezyvav ya koly-nebud' po-spravznomu kochannya?
Chy moze vsi moyi ziznannya – samoperekonannya
I vse, shcho treba, ce chekannya?

Ne tu yedynu i nezminnu, yaka stvorena dlya mene,
Yaka bude shchaslyva, koly ya budu bilya neyi,
Yaka ne bude dorikaty, a pryimayuchy lyubyty,
Z yakoyu prozyvem zyttya i dosyahnemo mriyi.

O, de ty polovynka zahublena u chasi?
Navishcho meni chtos', yakshcho dlya mene stvorenyi yanhol
I ya viryu, ya radiyu, mynule zhadayu,
Te, shcho kazav ya ranishe, zaraz usmishku vyklykaye.

I ya vsich zaklykayu zupynytys', pomirkuvaty,
Zrozumity, shcho vazlyve, a shcho prosto prymara,
Boze, shcho ye lyubov, a shcho prosto prymara?

Ce te, vid choho nemozlyvo zachystytys',
Shcho prychode neprochanym v nashe zyttya,
Mabut', my prosto stvoreni, shchob kochaty,
Mabut', my prosto stvoreni, shchob lyubyty.