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  We stand on the Desna cliff ... The wind rustles in the silk grasses, the curly willows fall to the ground with their branches. In high blue. Shulik floats slowly in the sky, surveying the expanses of the legendary land. Chernihiv, Nizhyn, Novgorod-Siversky, Pryluky, Lyubech! Your names in the history of the Fatherland shine with age-old unfading glory. And the silence of the Desna bows is guarded by the stamping of horses, the rattle of weapons, the noise of banners, the song of the plowman. From the walls of Putivl pours over Desna eternal love Yaroslavna cries with grief. And it seems   Horses roar after Sula, Glory is ringing in Kyiv, Antimony trumpets in Novgorod, Flags are in Putivl-gradscho there, in covered with milky mists valleys, shining shields of the Kiev Rus, burning velvet Cossack robes, strict the formidable army of the people's avengers, the Ukrainian Insurgent Army, is on the battlefield. How often, too often your plowmen, Chernihiv region, had to leave the plow