Текст песни Тарас Григорович Шевченко - Не молилася за мене

She didn't pray for me,
She did not bow
My mother; and so on
I was blown away
Singing. - Let it grow
But it will be healthy! -
And I grew up praising God,
But he did not get into the people.
It would be better not to give birth
Or drown,
How I should be in captivity
Lord angry.

And I am so little, little
I prayed to God, only a house,
One cabin in the grove,
And the two poplars around it,
Oh my foolish,
My Oxanochka; to be with her
Two watching from the mountain
The Dnieper is wide, the ravines,
And into the hinds of goldfields,
And on the high graves;
Watch, think, guess,
Once they were sprinkled?
Whom did people bury there?
And the two sing quietly
That sad day,
About the knight of that hetman,
On the fire the beds were baked.
And then they would come down from the mountain;
Over the Dnieper in a dark grove
They would walk until it was dusk,
Until the peace of God falls asleep,
So far with the evening star
The moon will not go up over the mountain,
The fog on the lan does not burn.
We would have looked, prayed
And talking they would go
Have dinner at your cabin.

You give, Lord only,
Master's gardens in your paradise,
You give high wards.
The ladies are insatiable, the belly,
Thy heaven, O Lord, spit
And they don't give us a look
From a wretched little house.

I'm the only lodge in that paradise
I pray, and I still pray
To die on the Dnieper,
Although on a tiny mountain.