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Old 16th September 2001, 01:50
Joni Joni is offline
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Join Date: Aug 2001
Posts: 42
Joni
Коли моя рука, то тиха, то лукава,
В промінні сну торкнеться губ твоїх
І попливе по шиї і, небавом,
Зплеча на груди, із грудей до ніг ...

Коли твоя рука, солодка, ніби слава,
Червонооким пальчиком майне
Влимонній тиші і коли мене
У темну глибину поверне темна слада

У білій лодії тоді ми пливемо
По водах любощів між берегами ночі:
І голоси у гніздах ластівочі
Стихають тихо ... Золоте кермо

Заснулої хмарини понад полем,
І спить рука в руці, і на щоці
Краплина щастя, виказана болем,
До ранку світиться ...
Mykola Vinhranovsky


More: http://brama.com/art/lit.html

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Old 16th September 2001, 16:29
Irinka Irinka is offline
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Join Date: Mar 2001
Posts: 1,636
Irinka
Thumbs up Joni

Thank you for the beautiful poem!
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  #3 (permalink)  
Old 29th January 2002, 16:28
JetSet JetSet is offline
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Join Date: Dec 2000
Posts: 336
JetSet
Song for the diaspora

A Reflection -Taras Shevchenko

The river empties to the sea,
But out it never flows;
The Cossack lad his fortune seeks,
But never fortune knows.
The Cossack lad has left his home,
He's left his kith and kind;
The blue sea's waters splash and foam,
Sad thoughts disturb his mind:

"Why, heedless, did you go away?
For what did you forsake
Your father old, your mother grey,
Your sweetheart, to their fate?
In foreign lands live foreign folks,
Their ways are not your way:
There will be none to share your woes
Or pass the time of day."

Across the sea, the Cossack rests --
The choppy sea's distraught.
He thought with fortune to be blessed --
Misfortune is his lot.
In vee-formation, 'cross the waves
The cranes are off for home.
The Cossack weeps -- his beaten paths
With weeds are overgrown...

St. Petersburg, 1838.

Translated by John Weir
Toronto
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