On dark and high rock above the blaring Dnepr [river]
The sapling so young is hard growing.
This sapling a wind couldn't leave in a rest
In night time, in day or in morning.
And tearing leaves, it is bending it, more,
But couldn't break tree from the height of the shore.
So luckiless man, persecuted by fate,
Though all his desires were taken by grave,
He ought to drag under the light of the moon
The wreckage of his life, entirely cooled.
He ought to get through all his hopes in life,
With love in his heart, he is frightened to love!