S'ohodni vze nastalo zavtra
I nich naspravdi novyi den.
Nevze ya c'oho lita varta,
Shcho lyne podychom pisen?

O, lito, lito!
I smak vyshen.
Ci hory, richka.
Lito, hey!
Doshchi doshchamy,
Ta ty zhaday,
Kochannya bulo.
Ta nechay!

Shcho lyne podychom pisen,
Shcho zalyshaye lyst nadiyi
I na hubach cey smak vyshen,
V doshchach prolylys' lita mriyi.

V doshchach prolylys' lita mriyi,
Zmyvayuchy ves' brud zi shkla.
I viterec' rozcheshe viyi
Tiy divchynci, shcho tam bula.

Tiy divchynci, shcho tam bula,
Tiy, shcho kochannya varta.
Ta den ostanniy dohorav
I s'ohodni vze nastalo zavtra.