Крила

Чорнії крила, шалені вітрила!
Білая крига йде в сонячний край.
Рідная, милая доля щасливая,
Як заблукаю мене відшукай!

Чотири вітри у моїй свиті,
Сушена риба й хліб у мішку...
Чиста водиця у моїй криниці,
Та мертвії голови в сірім сніжку.

Птаха-невдаха, душа бідолаха
В чорнії скелі не бийся крилом.
В плакучих вербах, у сонячнім серпні,
В синьому небі над тихим ставком...

Літай...

Літай...

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