On the blue sea waves are roaring,
Mountain high they tower.
Crying in their Turkish dungeon
Wretched Cossacks cower.
“Why, O gracious God, this torture?
Two years now we lie here;
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!”