Taras Shevchenko, Testament (Заповіт)

Заповіт
oil on canvas by Юрій Шаповал, 2014
(http://world.maidanua.org/2014/taras-shevchenko-the-testament)
no copyright infringement intended

Як умру, то поховайте

Мене на могилі

Серед степу широкого

На Вкраїні милій,

Щоб лани широкополі,

І Дніпро, і кручі

Було видно, було чути,

Як реве ревучий.

Як понесе з України

У синєє море

Кров ворожу... отойді я

І лани і гори —

Все покину, і полину

До самого Бога

Молитися... а до того

Я не знаю Бога.

Поховайте та вставайте,

Кайдани порвіте

І вражою злою кров’ю

Волю окропіте.

І мене в сем’ї великій,

В сем’ї вольній, новій,

Не забудьте пом’янути

Незлим тихим словом.

(http://litopys.org.ua/shevchenko/shev146.htm)

Заповіт was translated in more than 60 tongues. Here are two renderings into English. I am sure there are also Romanian translations. I looked for them, without success so far. I tried then my own Romanian rendering.

voiced by Val Ulanovsky
(video, traanslation, photos by Michael Noel)

When I am dead, bury me

In my beloved Ukraine,

My tomb upon a grave mound high

Amid the spreading 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,

And then I'll pray .... But till that day

I nothing know of God.

Oh bury me, then rise ye up

And break your heavy chains

And water with the tyrants' blood

The freedom you have gained.

And in the great new family,

The family of the free,

With softly spoken, kindly word

Remember also me.

Pereyaslav, December 25, 1845

Translated by John Weir, 1961

(http://www.ukemonde.com/shevchenko/testament.html)

At his death the poet was first buried at the Smolensk Cemetery in Saint Petersburg. However, fulfilling Shevchenko's wish, expressed in his poem , to be buried in Ukraine, his friends arranged to transfer his remains by train to Moscow and then by horse-drawn wagon to his native land. Shevchenko's remains were buried on May 8 on Chernecha Hora (Monk's Hill; now Taras Hora) by the Dnieper River near Kaniv. A tall mound was erected over his grave (wiki)

Тарас Шевченко - Заповіт
(http://kolinanastasiya.blogspot.com/2013/11/blog-post_7372.html)
no copyright infringement intended

Când voi muri, să m-aşezaţi
Într-o movilă 'naltă
În mijlocul întinsei stepe,
În Ucraina mea scumpă,
Astfel să văd şi să aud
Foşnetul câmpiei fără sfârşit,
Şi Niprul, clocotind vijelios,
Zdrobindu-se de malurile lui stâncoase.

Iar când Niprul din Ucraina-şi
Varsă în marea cea albastră
Sângele vrajmaşilor,
Cu el voi părăsi aceste culmi şi stepe
Şi voi zbura-n înalt,
Spre-al Domnului lăcaş,
Şi-acolo rugi voi înălţa - dar pân-atunci
Nu ştiu nimic de El.

Înmormântaţi-mă, şi-apoi vă ridicaţi
Şi rupeţi-vă lanturile
Stropiţi cu sângele tiranilor
Libertatea ce-o veţi fi câştigat.
Iar în noua familie,
Marea familie a celor liberi,
Cu vorbe blânde, şi şoptit,
Să v-amintiţi şi de mine.

(Taras Shevchenko)

Taras Shevchenko: Lights Are Blazing

Taras Shevchenko, Selfportrait, 1860
(http://www.infoukes.com/shevchenkomuseum/poetry2.htm)
no copyright infringement intended

The lights are blazing, music's playing,
Like jewels gleaming in the night
The eyes of youth are shining gaily,
Alight with hope, with pleasure flaming;
Their eyes are bright, for to the sight
Of innocence all things seem right.
So all are laughing, all are jolly,
And all are dancing. Only I,
As though accursed, in melancholy
Look on and wipe a mournful eye.
Why do I weep? Perhaps the reason's
That dreary, like the rainy season,
My youth has uselessly slipped by.

Orenburg, 1850

translated by John Weir

(http://www.infoukes.com/shevchenkomuseum/poetry2.htm)

(Taras Shevchenko)

FEMEN Tribute to Taras Shevchenko (If You But Knew))

Taras Shevchenko, Selfportrait, 1840
oil on canvas
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Taras_Shevchenko_selfportrait_oil_1840.jpg)
no copyright infringement intended

Taras Shevchenko, If You But Knew (Orenburg, 1850)
Declamation, Oleksandra Shivchenko
(video by Omar Haleem One)

If You But Knew

The tranquil cottage in the grove

Young gentlemen, if you but knew

Where people weep their whole life through

You'd not compose your rhapsodies

And God for nothing you'd not praise

- And mock our tears and twit the truth.

You call a paradise, I know.

In such a cottage once I dwelt

And there my first hot tears were spilt,

My early tears!

I know no vice,

No wrong or evil anywhere

That's not within that cottage fair ...

And yet they call it paradise!

I do not speak of that wee house

Beside the village, by the copse,

As though 'twere paradise on earth. '

Twas there my mother gave me birth

And, singing as her child she nursed,

She passed her pain to me ...

'Twas there, In that wee house, that Eden fair,

That I saw hell ... There people slave

Without a let-up night and day,

Not even given time to pray.

In that same village to her grave

My gentle mother, young in years,

Was laid by toil and want and cares-

There father, weeping with his brood (And we were tiny, tattered tots), Could not withstand his bitter lot

And died at work in servitude! . . .

And we — we scattered where we could

Like little field mice. I to school — To carry water for the class.

My brothers slaved on the estate

And then, conscripted, marched away!

And you, my sisters!

Fortune has Reserved for you the cruellest fate!

What is the purpose of your life?

Your youth in service slipped away,

Your locks in servitude turn grey,

In service, sisters, you will die!

My blood runs cold when I recall

That cottage in the village fair!

Such deeds, 0 God. do we do there

Where piety rules over all

And all in paradise should dwell!

Of heaven we have made a hell,

Yet for another heaven call.

We with our brothers live in peace,

We with our brothers plow the fields

And water them with brothers' tears.

And also, maybe . . . Nay, I fear,

But so it seems . . . perhaps, 0 God (Because without

Thy will divine We'd not in nakedness repine In paradise), perhaps

You mock Us also, Father, from the sky

And with the masters You conspire

On how to rule us here below.

For look: there smiles a verdant grove,

And from behind the grove a pool

Peeps shyly out, behind it stands

A row of willows washing hands,

Their branches, in the waters cool ...

Is this not truly paradise?

Look once again until your eyes

See what has made this heaven cruel!

You'll see rejoicing, songs of praise

To Him, our God above, alone

For all the marvels He has made!

No, not a bit! There's praise for none!

Just blasphemy and blood and wails

- All things are cursed, all is blasphemed!

There's nothing sacred left on earth ...

And even Thee, it seems to me,

The people have already cursed!

Translated by John Weir, Toronto
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EdzyiHiSrzk)

(Taras Shevchenko)

Taras Shevchenko

Taras Shevchenko Memorial
Washington, D.C.
image: Agnostic Preachers; Kid
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Taras_Shevchenko_Memorial_-_Church_of_the_Pilgrims.JPG)
no copyright infringement intended

The Taras Shevchenko Memorial, located near the intersection of 22nd and P Streets, NW, in the Dupont Circle neighborhood of Washington, D.C. The statue was sculpted by the Ukrainian Canadian artist Leo Mol, and the stonework was created by the Jones Brothers Company. A relief depicting Prometheus is located beside the statue. The memorial was authorized by U.S. Congress on September 13, 1960, and dedicated on June 27, 1964. It is administered by the National Park Service, a federal agency of the United States Department of the Interior. The Church of the Pilgrims, located at 2201 P Street, NW, is visible in the background. Built in 1928, the church is an example of Gothic Revival architecture.

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Taras_Shevchenko_Memorial_-_Church_of_the_Pilgrims.JPG)

Firstly I heard about Taras Shevchenko while in high school. A classmate, a girl that I liked a bit, was asked by our literature teacher to read a text about the life of the poet. The text was pretty long, but as I said, I liked the girl, so I listened carefully. And I remained with the image of a rebellious poet and painter, associated for ever with the image of the reader.

Years passed one after another, the girl became more and more a distant memory of the teen ages, now and then the name of the Ukrainian bard was coming to me and the image of that reader from long time ago was putting on my eyes a nostalgic smile.

And after many, many years, life brought me to Washington, I was now working at a company in the region. On Sundays I liked to make a stroll through the streets of D.C. to understand their universe (pretty different from one neighborhood of the city to another) and to enjoy.

I passed many times in front of the monument of Taras Shevchenko, it's close to other two statues, honoring Tomáš Masaryk and Mohandas Gandhi. And so, the three great heroes come for me always together.

And it happened that in Washington I also met that girl from high school, now a nice grandmother. And we shared the photos of our granddaughters, her, and mine, and smiled together at that longtime memory.

• FEMEN Tribute to Taras Shevchenko (If You But Knew)
• Lights Are Blazing
• Testament (Заповіт)

(A Life in Books)

(Washington, District of Columbia)