My Testament
Translated by John Weir (1961 – 1962)
When I am dead, then bury me
In my beloved Ukraine,
My tomb upon a grave mound high
Amid the splendid plain.
So that the fields, the boundless steppes,
The Dnieper’s plunging shore
My eyes could see, my ears could hear
The mighty river roar.
When from Ukraine the Dnieper bears
Into the deep blue sea
The blood of foes…then will I leave
These hills and fertile fields –
I’ll leave them all and fly away
To the abode of God,аnd then I’ll pray…
But till that dayI nothing know of God.
Oh bury me, then rise ye up
And break your heave chains,
And water with the tyrants’ blood
The freedom you have gained.
And in the great new family,
The family of free,
With a softy spoken, kindly words
Remember also me.
My Testament
Translated by E.L.Voinich
(Dec.25, 1845. Pereiaslav)
Dig my grave and raise my barrow
By the Dnieper-side
In Ukraine, my old land,
A fair land and wide.
I will lie and watch the cornfields,
Listen through the years
To the river voices roaring,
Roaring in my ears.
When I hear the call
Of the racing flood,
I will leave them all,
Fields and hills; and force my way
Right up to the Throne
Where God sits alone;
Clasp his feet and pray…
But till that day
What is God to me?
Bury me; be done with me,
Raise and break your chain,
Water your new liberty
With blood for rain.
Then in the mighty family
Of all men that are free,
May be, sometimes, very softly
You will speak of me?
My Testament
Translated by Padraic Breslin (1939)
When I die, friends, lay my body
Amid the spreading plain,
Where my bones would be buried
In my belovedUkraine.
That my native fields unbounded,
The Dnieper and her shore
Be mine to see as mine to hear
The raging river roar.
When the evil blood of tyrants
Will to the blue sea flow
From my Ukraine, these fields and hills
I will forsake, forego…
Yes, all forsake, forego and fly
Right to the feet of God.
And then I’ll pray – but till that day
I nothing know of God.
Oh bury me, then rise and break
The chains in which ye lie,
And as ye spill the tyrants blood
Your freedom sanctify.
And in the family, grand and free,
The family that will be,
Do not speak kindly
And gentle word of me.
The Mighty Dnieper Roars
Translated by John Weir (1961)
The mighty Dnieper roars and bellows,
The wind in anger howls and raves,
Down to the ground it bends the willows
And mountain-high lifts up the waves.
The pale-faced moon picked out this moment
To peek out from behind the cloud,
Like a canoe upon the ocean
It first tips up, and then dips down.
The cocks have not proclaimed the morning,
There’s not a sound as yet of man,
The owls in glades call out their warnings,
And ash-trees creak and creak again.
Taras Shevchenko, The Mighty Dnieper
The mighty Dnieper roars and bellows,
The wind in anger howls and raves,
Down to the ground it bends the willows,
And mountain-high lifts up the waves.
The pale-faced moon picked out this moment
To peek out from behind a cloud,
Like a canoe upon the ocean
It first tips up, and then dips down.
The cocks don't crow to wake the morning,
There's not as yet a sound of man,
The owls in glades call out their warnings,
And ash trees creak and creak again.
Translated by John Weir,
Toronto
Lina Kostenko, Wings Ліна Костенко, "Крила"
But also true winged soil is not necessary.
Earth is not, it will be heaven.
No field, it will be done.
No steam, it will cloud.
This is probably true bird ...
But what about the man? And what about the man?
He lives on the ground. I do not fly.
A wing has. A wing has!
They are the wings, not down, now, "I
And of truth, virtue and trust "me. Ліна Костенко (1930)
Who - with fidelity in love.
Who - with eternal aspirations.
Who - with sincerity to work.
Who - with generosity to care.
Who - the song, or hope,
Or with poetry, or dreams.
Man allegedly does not fly ...
A wing has. A wing has!
Translated by John Weir,
Toronto
Lesya Ukrainka, Contra spem spero Леся Українка "Contra spem spero"
Thoughts away, you heavy clouds of autumn!
For now springtime comes, agleam with gold!
Shall thus in grief and wailing for ill-fortune
All the tale of my young years be told?
No, I want to smile through tears and weeping.,
Sing my songs where evil holds its sway,
Hopeless, a steadfast hope forever keeping,
I want to live! You thoughts of grief, away!
On poor sad fallow land unused to tilling
I'll sow blossoms, brilliant in hue,
I'll sow blossoms where the frost lies, chilling,
I'll pour bitter tears on them as due.
And those burning tears shall melt, dissolving
All that mighty crust of ice away.
Maybe blossoms will come up, unfolding
Singing springtime too for me, some day.
Up the flinty steep and craggy mountain
A weighty ponderous boulder I shall raise,
And bearing this dread burden, a resounding
Song I'll sing, a song of joyous praise.
In the long dark ever-viewless night-time
Not one instant shall I close my eyes,
I'll seek ever for the star to guide me,
She that reigns bright mistress of dark skies.
Yes, I'll smile, indeed, through tears and weeping
Sing my songs where evil holds its sway,
Hopeless, a steadfast hope forever keeping,
I shall live! You thoughts of grief, away!
Translated by John Weir,
Toronto
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