Like trampled grass
Shall perish your thoughts
And words alike.
Like silver, hammered, beaten,
Seven times melted o’er the fire,
Are thy words, Oh Lord.
Scatter these holy words of Thine,
O’er all the earth,
That Thy children
little and poor
May believe in miracles on earth.
To Tsars and Kings
To Tsars and kings
who tax the world,
Send dollars and ducats,
And fetters well-forged.
To toiling heads and toiling hands,
Laboring on these stolen lands
Endurance and strength.
To me, my God, on this sad earth,
Give me but love,
the heart’s paradise
And nothing more.
My Prayer for the Tsars
My prayer for the Tsars,
These traffickers in blood,
That Thou on them would’st put
Fetters of iron, in dungeons deep.
My prayer for the peoples
toiling long,
Do Thou to them
on their ravaged lands,
Send down Thy strength
most merciful One.
And for the pure in heart
Grant angel guards beside them,
To keep them pure.
And for myself, Oh Lord,
I ask nought else
But truth on earth to love,
And one true friend
to love me.
For Those That Have Done Wrong to Me
For those that have done wrong to me,
No longer do I fetters ask,
Nor dungeons deep.
For hands that faithful toil for good
Send Thy instructions’ gracious aid,
And Holy strength.
For tender ones,
the pure in heart
Do Thou, Oh God,
their virtue save
With angel’s guard.
For all Thy children on this earth
May they Thy wisdom
know alike,
In brother love.
To Those of the Ever-Greedy Eyes
To those of the ever-greedy eyes,
Gods of earth, the Tsars,
Are the ploughs and the ships,
And all good things of earth
For these little gods.
To toiling hands,
To toiling brains
Is given to plough the barren field,
To think, to sow, and take no rest
And reap the fields anon.
Such the reward of toiling hands.
For the true-hearted lowly ones,
Peace-loving saints,
Oh, Creator of heaven and earth,
Give long life on earth,
And paradise beyond.
All good things of earth
Are for these gods, the Tsars,
Ploughs and ships,
All wealth of earth
For us—good lack!
Is left to love our brothers.
Mighty wind, mighty wind!
With the sea thou speakest;
Waken it, play with it,
Question the blue sea.
It knows where my lover is,
Far away it bore him.
It will tell, the sea will tell,
What it has done with him.
If it has drowned my darling,
Beat on the blue sea.
I go to seek my loved one,
And to drown my woe.
If I find him, I’ll cling to him,
On his heart I’ll faint.
Then waves bear me with him
Where’er the winds do blow.
If my lover is beyond the sea,
Mighty wind, thou knowest
Where he goes, what he does,
With him thou speakest.
If he weeps, then I shall weep,
If not, I sing.
If my dark-haired one has perished,
I shall perish, too.
Then bear my soul away
Where my loved one is,
Plant me as a red viburnum
On his tomb.
Better that an orphan lie
In a stranger’s field,
Over him his sweetheart
Will bud and bloom.
As a blossom of viburnum
Over him I’ll bloom,
That foreign sun may burn him not,
Nor strangers trample on his tomb.
At even I’ll grieve,
In the morning I’ll weep.
The sun comes up,
My tears I’ll dry,
And no one sees.
Mighty wind, mighty wind!
With the sea thou speakest.
Waken it, play on it,
Question the blue sea.
Strike lightning above this house,
This house of God where we are dying,
Where we think lightly of Thee, God,
And, thinking lightly, sing
Hallelujah.
Were it not for Thee,
we had loved men;
Had courted and married,
Brought up children,
Taught them and sung
Hallelujah.
Thou hast cheated us,
poor wretches!
And we, defrauded and unlucky,
Ourselves have fooled Thee,
And howled and sung: Hallelujah.
With barber’s shears hast put us in this nunnery,
And we—young women still—
We dance and sing,
And singing say: Hallelujah.
Hail, thou barmaid slovenly,
Stagg’ring like fish-wife drunkenly;
Where the dickens dost thou stay,
With thy stock of haloes, pray?
Was it on credit thou gavest one
To the thief of Versailles, that Corsican?
Perhaps now thou’rt whispering in some fellow’s ear;
And all because of boredom or beer.
Come then awhile with me to lodge,
Fondly, together, trouble we’ll dodge.
With a smack and a kiss
This dreary weather,
Let’s make a bargain
to live together.
Thou’rt a painted queen
with manners free,
Yet in thy company
I’d gladly be.
What though thou holdest
thy nose in air,
Dancest in barrooms
with kings at a fair;
And most with that chap
they call the Tsar;
Still that’s no bother,
thy stock’s still at par.
Come, my dear, make haste to me,
Let me have a look at thee;
Bestow on me a little smile,
’Neath thy bright wings
I’d rest a while.
Bright light, peaceful light,
Free light, light unbound!
What is this, brother light?
In thy warm home thou’rt found
By censers smoked,
By priests’ robes choked,
Fettered and fooled
And by Icons ruled.
Yield thee not in the fight,
Waken up, brother light!
Shed thy pure rays
On mankind’s ways.
All priestly robes in rags we’ll tear
And light our pipes from censers rare,
With Icons now the flames will roar,
With holy brooms we’ll sweep the floor.
When I die, remember, lay me
Lowly in the silent tomb,
Where the prairie stretches free,
Sweet Ukraine, my cherished home.
There, ’mid meadows’ grassy sward,
Dnieper’s waters pouring
May be seen and may be heard,
Mighty in their roaring.
When from Ukraine waters bear
Rolling to the sea so far
Foeman’s blood, no longer there
Stay I where my ashes are.
Grass and hills I’ll leave and fly.
Unto throne of God I’ll go,
There in heaven to pray on high,
But, till then, no God I know.
Standing then about my grave,
Make ye haste, your fetters tear!
Sprinkled with the foeman’s blood
Then shall rise your freedom fair.
Then shall spring a kinship great,
This a family new and free.
Sometimes in your glorious state,
Gently, kindly, speak of me.
Me my mother bore
’Mid lofty palace walls,
Me
