My dear land! My dear to the earth! Childhood, youth, maturity... vanity. Not enough years to spread the wings, Everything has blossomed. Not these years... Who knew that my fate would turn out differently, What will be the price and sum on a stranger? And the broad cry of Fatherland’s field, And my mother’s unkind songs. The land of the fathers, you will always be the greatest, More than once I have missed you in my dreams. Let's get out of the world now, my dear There's a fire behind that, like in a foreign country. Say goodbye to my son, tell your son, So as not to beckon the wide world, You won’t blame any of the Batkivshchyna It feels trampled underfoot. About my land, my earthly vale, The print is my old calluses. Don’t just fall into someone else’s field, And in death - on the father’s land.
