Jurko Bohun is a Ukrainian warlord, who is still called a falcon, because he was free and strong. He traveled and had no permanent place to live as a Cossack and one day, he came to a Polish village. Bohun was sitting at the table, eating game and suddenly noticed something that made his heart stop. His breath caught in his chest and a sigh escaped his lips when he noticed a girl who was modest and innocent like a flower itself, who was afraid to show its petals. Bohun wiped his mustache, getting himself in order and did not know what to say. 'This child is under my care, she is a poor orphan' - says an old woman, called a kniaginia, who lived in this wooden house and was a starosta in this village. Bohun stood up suddenly. 'Knyazevno, come to us...' - he says, inviting and indicating the place next to him, but I did not sit down. I modestly refused and left, like a poor girl who has no right to kindness. Jurko could not eat and did not listen to the conversation of the Cossacks with the old princess. Bohun thought about me and his heart ached. In the evening, when the Cossacks had gone to sleep, the old princess and Bohun talked and Bohun asked the princess to allow the young Cossack to take care of and love the young girl. The princess was afraid of Jurko's power and nodded, and Bohun began to court. Every day he persecuted me and his strange possessiveness grew. He did not allow the Cossacks to talk to me and even threatened to fight for me. I ran away from Bohun like from fire and his anger grew. He angrily pursued me and just waited for an opportunity. The Cossacks surrounded the house and life in the village was like a cage in which I wanted nothing.

One day, while I was picking herbs at the edge of the forest, I felt someone watching me. I turned around and saw Bohun leaning against a tree with a grim expression on his face. I tried to run away, but he was faster. He grabbed my hand, his grip strong and painful.

"Куди ти йдеш, пташечко?" he asked in a menacing tone.

Tears welled up in my eyes. "Leave me alone," I whispered. "I don't want love you."

His face darkened. "Ти вже моя, і так судилося, я і ти, козак і невинна дівчина... квітка, що боїться розкритися і приховує свою невинність... Князівно, я багатий... Я віддам тобі півУкраїни... дай мені трохи почуттів, покажи мені свій дотик..." he growled. " Ти будеш моєю, хочеш ти цього чи ні."

he leans towards me, his whiskers touching my ear, as his chest moves when Jurko makes a quiet purr, like a cat, like a lover. His Cossack żupan carefully shines and you can see that it is an expensive fabric, on which you could see the dark hair from Bohun's horse, on which he rode like lightning. Bohun sighed, touching my hand and his fingers entwining mine, as he sings quietly to calm me down like a faithful husband, humble to his only wife.

'Ой чий то Кінь стоїть Що Сива Гривонька Сподобалась мені Сподобалась мені Тая Дівчинонька...'