The aggressor craves peace,
Blames the victim for the war.
Waits for her to sincerely
Wish herself to die.

From the Kadyrovite’s knife,
From the NKVD man’s bullet,
That Ukraine’s spirit be aired out
From every hamlet, village, and city.

They do not spare the poison
For the local word,
So that on the “ancestral” land one hears
Only the invader’s tongue.