Chytaye viter hillya
I rve svoyi zusyllya,
Topolyu do zemli zhyna.
Navkolo skriz' vyruye,
I v ruky mech beru ya,
Za ce spoviduyus' spovna!

Pryspiv:
Des' daleko, za lisamy, za stepamy,
Chuyu, yak zakrylys' hraty.
Des' daleko, z tyazkoyi nevoli,
Chuyu tychyi poklyk: "Vyzvol, brate!"

Nesy mene, miy konyu,
Za yasyrom v pohonyu –
Ye shche nadiya nazdohnaty.
Ty vze zhubyv pidkovy,
Uves' u potu y krovi,
Ta vse shche zmozesh podolaty.

Pryspiv

Hey vy, osmany zliyi!
Ne v poli viter vyye,
To pomsta nasha yde na vy!
Schrestylys' v poli shabli,
I holovy kryvavi
Zhubylys' u hustiy travi.

Pryspiv