Oh yeah, I would head for Zaporozhia,
But I do not know the way:
Hey, at least I’ll stop, I’ll stop, and see,
Hey, I’ll ask someone the way...
Hryhoriy listened, having completely forgotten about his newly‑born psalm. He pictured the girl as being slender, dark‑haired, with a plait falling below her waist and eyes filled with a despondent grief... She stood among the cherry trees near the forest, gazed into the deep blue sky framed in white blossom, and poured out her soul. She sang with such inspiration, filling every sound and word with such energy that Hryhoriy’s heart went numb. He had never heard such singing, had never met such a girl.
Oh yeah, the Cossack went, oh yeah, the young man went
Waving a kerchief about;
Hey, it was for him, for him, that the young girl,
Hey, she sh
