Dear Charles XII, Battle of Poltava,
thank God, Losses. As said burr,
"Time will show gruel", ruin,
bone posthumous joy with a touch of Ukraine.
That's not the green-kvitny, moth-isotope,-
yellow blakыtnыy reet over Konotop,
cut from the canvas, know, Canada in store.
Even though no cross, Khokhlov but not necessary.
Goy you, towel, karbovanets, seeds full Zhmenya!
not for us, Kacapa, They were accused of treason.
Themselves under the icons seventy years in Ryazan
eyes suffused with living, as in Tarzana.
tell them, voiced lingering pause mother severely:
tablecloth you, Ukrainians, and towel road!
Stupa of us in the County, not to mention - in uniform,
at three-letter, on all four
sides. Suppose now that in a mud hut in unison Hans
lyahami to put you in the four bones, heathens.
How to climb into the loop - so together, choosing the path most often,
and chicken from borscht to gnaw alone sweeter.
Proshtevayte, Ukrainians, We lived together - enough!
Spit, whether, FC Dnipro Dnipropetrovsk in, can, he reversed sloping,
disdaining proudly us, how soon, chock-full
leather corners and the age-old resentment.
Not commemorate the disaster. your bread, heaven,
us, we choke cake and colobomas, no need.
There is nothing to spoil the blood, tearing chest clothes.
ended, know, love, Kohl was promezhdu.
That poking around in vain in the ragged roots verb?
You gave birth to the earth, priming, black soil to podzol.
Full swing right, sew us one, other.
This land does not give you, watermelons, peace.
Oh yes Levada steppe, King, disheartening, boiled dough!
Больше, podi, lost - more people, than money.
We shall scrape through somehow. As for the tears from my eyes –
no it's decree, wait until another time.
With God, eagles, Cossacks, hetmans, vertuhai!
Only when he comes and you die, ʙugai,
you will wheeze, scratching the edge of the mattress,
lines from Alexander, not lie T..
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