this is unusual for this channel, but I translated my favorite poem from ukrainian into english.


The eternal rebel-soul,
Spirit tearing flesh to fight,
For our progress, freedom's right,
Death has not achieved its goal.
Neither priestly tortures grim,
Nor the tsar's walls, dark and dim,
Neither armies trained to kill,
Nor the cannons on the hill,
Nor the spies deceitful trade
Have him in the coffin laid.

He's not dead, he lives today!
Though from ancient times he's cast,
He's unswaddled now at last,
On his own he makes his way.
Standing tall and growing strong,
Speeding where the dawns belong:
With a mighty trumpet call,
He is leading one and all,
Millions gladly make the choice,
For they hear the spirit's voice.

Spirit's voice is heard out there:
Deep within the peasant huts,
Where the busy craftsman cuts,
In the places of despair.
And wherever it will sound,
Tears and sorrow lose their ground,
Strength and zeal will come alive,
Not to weep, but fight and strive,
Winning, if we fall in strife,
For our sons a better life.

The eternal rebel-soul,
Spirit, science, thought, and will
Shall not yield to darkness chill,
Shall not let them take control.
Down the evil ruins fall,
Rolls the avalanche over all,
Where on earth is there a force,
That could stop its mighty course,
That could quench, like candlelight,
Dawning day that ends the night?