Pole

Hei, ty, pole, moye pole, ty choho ce potemnilo?
Choho zelen pochornila, a same ty zanimilo?
Oi, hvaltuvaly, rozdyraly, volochyly, holosyly.
Rusi kosy rozpleteni viter smykaye shchosyly.

Chorni roty bezzubiyi tyho do nebes volayut:
Vyidy, mamo, podyvysya, yak synochka ubyvayut!
Oi, bole syzyi, batku nashyi, choho v nebi ne litayesh?
Rozzyriv tak, shcho i ne zletysh, tilky oi sydysh dovbayesh...

Oi, zemle nasha, proklyataya, hto zodyahne, toi rozzuye...
I lyshe krycya, holodna i hostra, nas vid kata poryatuye