/How my name came to be, Слава Україні! Search: Go_a Shum live/

Spring Goddess; clad in a lung-compressing, coal-colored suit, on a coat of grass to spring out on the winter-worn forestry.

You sang still in resonant tones; piercing through our kinetic spines calling choreomania with the calloused key of E:

"Siyu, siyu, siyu, siyu konopelechky

Siyu, siyu, siyu, siyu, Zelenesenki."

And I was birthed, anew, my name wailed in Ukrainian white voice.

A modern warcry as drones flew over sunflower fields bombed by Russian toys.

And I sang their songs, so to immortalize their story, in straight stature.

They may march all over the square of Kyiv but they can't completely kill the culture.

For they'd have to step on my throat, first, as I sing above the Mountain City:

"Siyu, siyu, siyu, siyu konopelechky,

Siyu, siyu, siyu, siyu, Zelenesenki!"