TO LITTLE MARIANA
Grow, grow, my little birdie fair,
My poppy blossom, grow,
Keep on unfolding while your heart
Is still uncrushed by woe,
While people are still unaware
Of your secluded valley ...
They'll find you, mock you, wither you
By their malicious sally.
For neither years of youthful joy
Enveloped in sweet grace,
Nor yet your sparkling hazel eyes
And tear-besprinkled face,
Nor yet your gentle, maiden heart,
In which all kindness lies,
Will serve to cover from your sight
Their fierce, infernal eyes —
The wicked folk will find you out,
Despoil you, and still worse
Will cast you down to hell itself
And God your tongue will curse.
Do not unfold your bloom, my flower,
My fresh unfolded bud!
Die softly, ere your heart shall lie
All shattered in the mud!
1845, Viunishcha, (В’юнище)
Translated by С.H. Andrusyshen and Watson Kirkconnell
Original publication: Taras Shevchenko. Zibrannia tvoriv: U 6 t. — K., 2003. — T. 1: Poeziia 1837-1847. — S. 366; S. 748-749.
Source: The Poetical Works of Taras Shevchenko. The Kobzar. Translated from the Ukrainian by С.H. Andrusyshen and Watson Kirkconnell. Published for the Ukrainian Canadian Committee by University of Toronto Press, 1964. Toronto and Buffalo. Printed in Canada, Reprinted 1977, p. 267 - 268.
Here you can find Ukrainian text of the Taras Shevchenko's poem:
Original poem in Ukrainian