Horhanskyi front

Niby na tim sviti
drymbayut molfary.
Na vsi shtyry boky
lysh zemlya dovkola.

Vid suhoyi hilky
serce vidirvalos.
Poletilo ptahom
ponad minnym polem.

A za vydnokrayem
rodytsya svitanok,
hoch v dushi shche temno,
hen za playem rvetsya

neba chorne drantya,
krov’yaniyut rany...
Chy dytyna plache
chy lyhyi smiyetsya?..

Boze, yakshcho ye ty,
dai skorishe vmerty
i shchob potim kruky
ochi ne dovbaly.

Tak nelehko zyty
dlya lehkoyi smerty.
Chuyesh – na tim sviti
drymbayut molfary.