Текст песни Хорея Козацька - Мире лукавий

The world is wicked, the treasure is full!
Unless you are imperfect, you are imperfect!
If not your good pleasure,
Kohl is a sad joy and a laugh.

Kohl restless your honor, wealth,
Wind, smoke, nothing, all volatility.
It blooms here at one time, at another fades,
Today on the throne - tomorrow falls.

Where there is pride David cried
Everything goes by, he was no longer running.
I think we have your sweet fun,
Delights are the crux of our morals.

Lust for meaning prevents maturing,
Bitter sweet beat show.
The High Being is proud in the world,
But the rich think that death fears them.

What in the riches of death still reigns in us,
Yin collects, Yin inherits.
What good is honor to us
When death ranks are highly despised.

The only thing that will be true is the faithful thought,
How the Judge will come on that day!
We will be asked the poor there shortly -
Because losing loses our summers!