The philosopher-poet
Does not befriend wealth,
A robber
Will not rob him.
From his sonnet
Concern flows,
A spit on affluence,
He lives by the word alone.

Immortality stirs
The thinker more.
Diamonds and gold
Do not shine for him.
He does not hear death,
The eternal has gathered in him,
The vain laid out in a heap
He will not accept.

The romantic’s delight
Is not in hryvnias, not in euros.
He dreams constantly
How to save the soul.
The Pacific, the Atlantic
Will surely dry up
When they learn how zealously
He pursued his aim.