A na lysiy hori yanholy ne litayut',
A na lysiy hori yanholy ne zyvut'!
A ya tycho na svoho chekayu i znayu,
Shcho vze vyletiv vin u dalekuyu put'...

Prylitay, dobryi yanhole miy,
Z tvoyich kryl zmyyu poroch dorih,
Budu maty nareshti ya sviy oberih... charivnyi...

A na lysiy hori chodyat' temniyi tini,
A na lysiy hori moyi druzi ryabi...
De ty, yanhole miy, de ti ochi osinni?
Ya kolys' yich pobachu y zalyshu sobi...

Prylitay, dobryi yanhole miy,
Z tvoyich kryl zmyyu poroch dorih,
Budu maty nareshti ya sviy oberih... charivnyi...

Zrozumilo use i ne treba hadaty,
Shcho na lysiy hori proyde moye zyttya,
A ya chochu inakshoho – chochu litaty,
Poryad z yanholom mylym moye zabuttya... charivnyi...

Prylitay, dobryi yanhole miy,
Z tvoyich kryl zmyyu poroch dorih,
Budu maty nareshti ya sviy oberih... charivnyi...