I

At one time in Ukraina Cannons roared like thunder; At one time the Zaporozhtsy Knew the path to power. So they ruled and they acquired Glory, yes, and freedom; That is past--they’ve left behind them Tombs upon the meadows. And those tombs are high and lofty, Where they laid to slumber The white body of a Kozak Wrapped in cloth of crimson. And those tombs are high and lofty, Black as gloomy mountains. In the field they speak of freedom Softly to the breezes. And they speak to passing breezes Of the past and serfdom. And the grandson reaps the harvest, Singing songs they fashioned. At one time in Ukraina There was evil dancing. Sorrow vanished with the drinking In the jolly circle. At one time in Ukraina Life was good and merry. Let us tell it! Our hearts, maybe, Can thus find some solace.