And it gets dark and it gets light,
And God's day goes by,
And again, the people are tired,
And everyone is at rest.
Only I, as if accursed,
I cry day and night
On the crowded crossroads,
And no one sees my plight -
And does not sees and does not guess-
Have become deaf, do not hear;
Exchanging the shackles
Trade in truth and fear.
And despise the Lord,
People are harnessed
In a heavy yoke. Trouble is plowed,
Trouble is sown,
And what will be born? You will see,
What will be the harvest!
Come to your senses, sub humans,
Holy fool children!
Look at quiet heaven
On your own country,
Love with a sincere heart
This great ruin,
Break the chains in brotherhood,
In foreign countries
Do not ask and do not look
For what doesn’t exist
Even in heaven and not just
On foreign field.
In your hut is your own truth,
And strength, and will.
There is no Ukraine in the world, my friend
There is no second Dnieper,
And you are rushing to a foreign land
Seek the good where it is bitter.
Holy good. Freedom! Freedom! We will!
Fraternal brotherhood! Found again,
They carried, carried from a foreign field
And brought to our Ukraine
Great power of great words you have found
And nothing else. So, shout,
That God did not create you to sin
So that you bow down to lies!
And bow down, as you bowed down!
And again, you peel the skin
Of blind brothers, husbandmen,
And the sun-truths ripen
In German lands, not foreign,
Rush in again! If only they could
Take all the misery and run,
Stolen property by grandfathers,
Then Dnieper would have remained an orphan
With its holy mountains!
Oh, if only that happened, so you do not return,
So, you just die there, where you grew up!
Children would not cry, mother would not weep,
We would not hear from God your blasphemy.
And the sun would not warm the stinking pus
On our pristine land, wide and free.
And people wouldn't know what kind of eagles you are,
And wouldn't nod their heads at you, when you pass.
Come to your senses! be the children of man,
For trouble will come, you will be damned.
Soon will be freed from the shackles
Chained Ukrainians,
The court will come, our old Dnieper
And the mountains will speak!
And the blood will flow for centuries
Into the blue sea
Of your children… and there won't be anyone
Whom to help.
Brother will disown brother
And child the mother.
And the smoke, like a cloud, will cover
Your warm Ukrainian sun,
And you will you curse forever
Your own sons!
Wash yourself! image of God
Do not defile with dirt.
Do not fool your children,
That in the world they were brought
For one reason only - to rule…
Because the unlearned eye
Will look straight into their soul
So deep! So deep! It will try!
They will find out, little nephews,
Whose skin you are wearing,
And sit down and the wise ones
By simpletons are fooled.
If you would learn properly day and night,
Then wisdom would be yours, you’ll see,
Instead, you'll climb into the sky:
“And we are not us, and I am not me,
And I've seen it all, and I know it all well,
There is no Heaven or hell.
There is no God, only me!
And the German, knotty and short,
And no one else!” – “All right, bro,
What are you?”
“Let the German say then.
We don’t know”.
This is how you learn
In a foreign land!
“You are Mongols”, said German
“Mongols! Mongols!”
Golden Tamerlane
Naked grandsons.
” You are Slavs!”, said German
“Slavs! Slavs!”
Glorious great-grandfathers
Filthy great-grandchildren!
And you read Collard
With all your might,
And Shafarik, and Ganka,
To be a Slavophile you have tried
And keep trying… And all the tongues
Of the Slavic people-
You know. And your own
If only… One day we will
Speak even our own way
As the German will show
And, also, about our history
Will tell us, as we go, -
That's when we come in! …
We came in and how
The way the German show us
We are speaking now
So, that the German did not understand,
What a great teacher,
And not like the common people.
And the noise! and scream!
“Harmony, and strength,
Music and that’s all.
And the history! A poem
Of a Free people!
What about those poor Romans!
Hell knows what-not Brutus!
We have Brutus! and Сokles!
Unforgotten, Glorious!
Our freedom grew step by step,
Washed in the Dnieper,
She laid the mountains under the head,
And cover itself with a steppe!”
She bathed itself in blood.
And slept on piles,
On the corpses of free Cossacks,
Stolen corpses!
Have a very good look,
And read it again
That glory. And read it
Word for word,
Don’t miss any titles,
Below that comma,
Sort out everything… and ask
Yourself then: what are we?
Whose sons? which parents?
By whom and for what we are chained?
Then you will see, that this is what
Your glorious Brutus:
Slaves, footrests, dirt of Moscow,
Warsaw garbage, your masters
Noble hetmans.
Why are you swaggering, you!
Sons of poor Ukraine!
That you walk well in the yoke,
Even better, than your fathers used to walk.
Do not boast, the belt is torn from you,
And they, it happened, were melted for fat.
Maybe you boast that the brotherhood
Protected the faith.
That with Sinope and Trapezund
Dumplings are cooked.
True! …true, they ate enough.
And it bothers you now.
And in the Sich a wise German
Plant potatoes,
And you are buying it
Eat, if that's all you got
And praise Zaporozhye.
And whose blood
This land is watered,
That the potatoes will grow, -
You do not care. As long as it will
Be good for the city!
And you brag, that once
We brought down Poland!
You are right: Poland fell,
And you were crashed as well!
So, this is how our parents bled
for Moscow and Warsaw,
And to you sons, they handed over
Their chains and glory!
Ukraine won the fight
To the very edge.
Worse than the Poles her own children
Their own mother to crucify.
Instead of beer righteous
Blood from the ribs sucking dry.
They say they want to enlighten
Mothers eyes
With modern lights.
Into the century follow the lead,
And the Germans, her, nonentity,
Blind invalid.
All right, lead her, show her,
Let the old mother learn
How to look after
Those new children.
Show her! Do not worry
about education, there will be
Good payment for the mother.
The veil will fall apart
From your insatiable eyes,
You will see the glory,
Living glory of your grandfathers
And your crafty fathers.
You should Learn and read,
And learn from others,
And don’t shy away from yours.
Because those who forget their Motherland
God punishes them.
Children shun those,
And don't let them into the house.
Strangers chase them away
And for the wicked
All over the endless land
There is no happy home.
I cry, as I remember
unforgotten deeds
of our grandfathers. Heavy deeds!
If I could forget them,
I would give half the joyous
century, all that remains.
Such is our glory,
Glory of Ukraine.
And you read it like this too,
So that those who are not sleepy
Dreamed of all the lies, and the high graves
Will be revealed
Before your eyes.
That you may ask the martyrs,
whom, when, for what
they crucified!
So, my brothers, embrace
The youngest brother-
Let the mother smile,
Crying mother.
May she bless her children
With firm hands
And kisses children
With free lips.
And the hour is long gone
We will forget the shame,
And good glory will revive,
Glory of Ukraine,
And a light world, not a dark one
It will shine quietly in peace...
So, hug each other my brothers
I pray, I beg you! Please!
Marinka
Treugol'ny
Divnyi
Mer, 24/11/2021 - 11:31
Anatoli Trojanowski