With the chains our hands are heavy—
Wilt Thou let us die here?
“Wings of Ukraina’s Eaglets,
Yanichars[[29]] cut, throwing
In the grave the living victims,
All their sorrow knowing.
“Hai! Ye youthful Zaporogians,[[30]]
Have ye not arisen?
Sons of Freedom, ever glorious,
Rescue us from prison!”