""Oh, the winds are mute, the tides do not carry
Good tidings to us from Ukraine!
Do the Cossacks meet, the Turk plan to harry?
For news we are waiting in vain.
Blow, ye north wind, blow across the blue water
From Luh , from the fields of Ukraine,
Dry our bitter tears and drown our chains’ clatter,
And ease the poor prisoners’ pain.
Roll, oh roll, ye sea, as hither you’re bearing
The bold Cossacks’ boats from Ukraine,
When they sail to save their unhappy brethren
Who languish in Turkey in chains.
Even, O God, if they come not to free us,
Still send them across from Ukraine;
Word of their exploits will reach us in prison
And light our last days with their fame."" (translator - John Weir)
""Ah, there comes, there comes nor wind nor a wave
From our Ukraina!
Whether they are in council, how to face the Turk —
We hear not in this far region!
Ah, blow, wind, blow, far over the sea,
From the Great Meadow coming,
Gome, dry our tears, drown the clanking of chains,
And scatter our longing.
Ah, dance, then, dance, thou azure-blue sea
Under boats where are sailing
The Cossacks (only their caps to be seen),
To this shore to save us.
Ah God, our God! Even if not for us, —
From Ukraine do Thou bear them :
We shall hear their glory, the Cossack glory,
Shall hear it and perish."" (translator - Vera Rich)
Taras Shevchenko's poem "Hamaliya". Ukrainian-to-English translation by С. H. Andrusyshen and Watson Kirkconnell
""Not a breath of air is felt, no wind or wave,
Comes from our dear Ukraine!
Do men take counsel there to rout the Turk? —
We listen here in vain."
“Blow, blow, O wind, across the vast sea blow,
Across the mighty Plain!
Dry all our tears, drown out the fetters clank
And put to flight our fain!
“Roar, roar, O azure sea, as on you roll
Beneath those sturdy ships
That each bright Cossack caps and warriors bears
As towards our shore it dips!
“O Lord, our God! They may not reach us here,
But bring them none the less:
In their exploits well hear the Cossack fame
And die without distress""
(translators - С.H. Andrusyshen and Watson Kirkconnell)
"Oh breeze there is none,
Nor do the waters run
From our Ukraina's land.
Perhaps, in council there thev stand,
To march against the Turk demand.
We hear not in this foreign land.
Blow winds, blow across the sea.
Bring tidings of our land so free.
Come from Dnieper's Delta low.
Dry our tears and chase awav our woe.
Roar in play thou sea so blue,
In yon boats are Cossacks true*
Their caps above are dimly seen.
Rescue for us this may mean.
Once more we'll hear Ukraina's story,
Once more the ancient Cossack glorv
We'll hear before we die."" (translators - Alexander Jardine Hunter)
