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THE KOBZAR OF THE UKRAINE
Drag these fetters
in my jail?
Because, perchance,
my own Ukraine
I shall see again.
Again I shall pour out
my words of sorrow
To the green groves
and rich meadows.
No family have I of my own
in all Ukraine,
Yet the people there
are different from these foreigners
I would walk again
among the bright villages
On the Dnieper's banks
and sing my thoughts
gentle and sad.
Grant me,
Oh God of mercy
That I may live
to see again
Those green meadows,
those ancestral tombs.
If Thou wilt not grant this.
Yet bear my tears
To my Ukraine.
Because, God,
I die for her.
It may be that I shall lie
more lightly in foreign soil
