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КРАПІВА Кандрат Крапіва Я ў мастацкім агародзе Толькі марная трава. А якая? Смех, дый годзе: Я — пякучка-крапіва. Я расту вось тут пад плотам I не так даўно ўзышла, А ўжо многім абармотам Рукі-ногі папякла. Хто палез за агуркамі, Хай той носіць пухіры — Мяне голымі рукамі Асцярожна, брат, бяры. Хто сустрэўся быў са мною, Дакрануўся раз ці два, Дык той ведае ўжо, хто я: Я — пякучка-крапіва.

The Nettle Kandrat Krapiva Translated into English by Vera Rich In Art's noble kitchen Vain and worthless weed I lie, Of what kind? Fit but for laughter! I am the stinging nettle — I. Here beneath the fence I No great time have grown as yet, But a host of knaves I've worried, Arms and legs with stings beset. Who comes here after cucumbers, Let that man my blisters wear — Pluck me, friend, but well remember — Careful, if your hands are bare! Who shall meet with me, then let him Touch me once or twice and try! Then he'll know, and not forget me; I am the stinging nettle — I!

[1922]

Translated into English by Vera Rich in Like Water, Like Fire (1971), p. 110.