Текст песни Тарас Шевченко - Молитва

To the kings, the world shinkars,
And tusks and talars,
And the bonds of the box went.

Working heads, hands
On this stolen land
You have worn out your power.

Me, my God, on earth
Give love, heartfelt paradise!
And don't give anything more!

Kings, bloody shakers,
In the shackles of the box,
In the crypt deep wall.

To the working people, all good,
On their stolen land
You have worn out your power.

And with a pure heart? Circle them
You have set your angels,
To keep them clean.

Oh, my God, give me
To love the truth on earth
And the sincere friend went!

Malicious backs,
In the shackles of the box do not smoke,
Do not lay deep in the crypts of the deep.

And good-natured hands
And show and help
The holy power was lowered.

And with a pure heart? Circle them
Put your angels
And their purity looks.

And all of us together on earth
Give one thought
And the brotherly love went.