Ukranian National Anthem
ENGLISH TRANSLATION
1. Ukraine is not yet dead,
nor its glory and freedom,
Luck will still smile on us,
young brothers.
Our enemies will vanish,
as the dew does in the sunshine,
and we, brothers,
will be masters in our own land.
CHORUS:
We'll put the soul, the body
for our freedom
and we'll show that we brothers
are of Kozak kin.
Hey, hey, dear brothers,
Let start our work,
Hey, hey, it's time to stand,
Time to strive for freedom.
2. Nalevanko, Zalaznik,
And Taras Trusillo
Call us from the tombs
To the sacred cause.
Let us remember the glorious death
Of the Kozak-knighthood
To avoid the useless waste
Of our youth.
Chorus
3. Oh Bohdan, Oh Bohdan,
Our glorious hetman,
Why had you given Ukraine
To the hateful Moscols.
We'll give our lives
To return her honor.
We'll name us
the true sons of Ukraine.
Chorus
4. Our brothers Slavs
Have already taken the arms.
No one should wait
That we'll remain behind.
Let us unite
Slavic brothers,
Let the enemies die,
Let the freedom come.
Chorus
Not enough room to put the anthem
in their language.
Categories:
taras, allegory, analogy,
Form: Blank verse
We all retain, at heart, a love of squares –
the ones who wear pyjamas, say their prayers:
staid Ministers of Minuscule Affairs,
so sound at spouting homilies, splitting hairs,
the Fred Astaires who wound up Red Adairs –
you think the planet yours? It’s wholly theirs!
Those unabashed enthusiasts for flares
who spew soliloquies on stocks and shares,
and somehow swell and prosper, unawares!
Compliance officers, commissionaires –
not Taras Bulbas, more like Tony Blairs,
the sort who cook with Kerrygold, just for dares,
and read about invisible repairs.
Another thing about them – … oh, who cares?
Categories:
taras, humorous,
Form: Sonnet
Taras follows me—
wherever I go, giving such
inspiration, consent and dares me to speak
out my mind; encouraging me
to search for freedom, thru my
thin voice, against the treacherous tactics
of life. Again and again, he’s
speaking in a finest manner
and as I talk to him he turns me not away. He stands
amidst the trees. His eternal throne—
the park of Kyiv’s wisdom, where I love hanging
around, waiting for the great red bell chimes. And,
as always, as I pick the yellow caterpillar
with two lights on to bring me home
from a day’s travel, I see him nodding in silence, while
hospitable hands wave in the wind. Now I see
his face no more, but
everyday I feel him and hear his voices. His voices—
in the praises of my peers, in the psalms of
my neighbors and of the people of the streets,
in the whirs of the birds and in the twitches of the fishes,
in the smiles of the flowers and of the tares,
in the sound of the rivers, of the seas,
and of the mountains, too. He’s a friend I owe this life,
urging me on—
to sow duds of thought, to bloom near a placid stream.
Categories:
taras, education, inspirational, life, nostalgia,
Form: Lyric