When I die, bury
me in the grave
in the middle of the broad steppes
of the lovely Ukraine
so that it would be possible to see broad fields
and the Dnipro and rocks
—and to hear
how it roars!
When it’ll carry the blood of foes
from Ukraine to the blue sea,
then I will rise from the field.
I will leave everything and reach
to be able to pray . . . but before
I know no God.
Bury and rise up,
break your chains
and water your freedom
with the evil blood of foes.
And don’t forget to drink to my soul,
remember me saying a kind quiet word
in the great family,
in the new, free family.
Taras Shevchenko, Ukraine 1814–1861
Translated by Daria Mishueva – Stanley Barkan