Karna

Plach, drevnye nebo,
Nad mertvym polem.
Te pole vsiyaly my
Krov’yu-rudoyu, syvym bolem.

Kriz nashi ochi
Travy prorosly.
Za shcho hynuly my,
Pro te plachut nad namy hrozy.

Ne teye nebo
Plache nad namy,
A to karymo my
Za svoyimy synamy.

Vony ne mertvi,
Zyvi-zdorovi,
Ta nemaye u nyh
V zylah nashoyi krovi.