Poikhav chumak u Krym na bazar,
Voly yomu pokhromily, sam chumak zaslab.
Zaslab chumak, zaslab, zaslab ta y lezhyt,
Nikhto yoho ne spytaie, shcho yoho bolyt.
Bolyt yoho sertse, bolyt holova,
Ostalysia dribni dity, zhinka moloda.
Prykhodyt do noho, tovarysh yoho,
Bere yoho za holovu, zhaluie yoho.
‒ Tovarysh, tovarysh, ne zhalui mene,
Vizmy moi syvi voly, skhorony mene.
Yde zhinka ta y plache, a dity hudut:
‒ Nema moho chumachenka, sami voly ydut.
Syvi voly, syvi, ta y v novim yarmi,
Pokhovaly chumachenka, v chuzhii storoni.
Both Miklos
Iryna Telyukh
Igor Perevertniuk
2017-10-31