Rode on the Kozak out to war:
"Bid farewell, he said, my dear girl,
Farewell my dear one, my dark browed beauty, )
I go into a foreign land and country! )2
Give me, oh girl, your head scarf,
Maybe, in battle I'll perish,
A dark night there, will close my eyes, )
Easier I'll rest in the grave! )2
Gave the girl her head scarf,
The Kozak in battle did perish,
A dark night there, had closed his eyes, )
Already he rests in the grave. )2
And wicked people, by force,
Took that unfortunate girl,
And in the meadow, there bends a poplar, )
Upon the dear Kozak's grave! )2