Waiting near a Cossack weeps:

Of days of old he’s dreaming.”

The Kobzar ceased in sadness

His hands would no longer play:

Around him youths and maidens

Were wiping the tears away.

By the path the Kobzar makes his way,

To get rid of his grief he starts to play.

And now the youngsters are dancing gay,

And then he opes his lips to say: