Kobzar

The Poetry of Taras Shevchenko

Taras Shevchenko, Peter Fedynsky

• Publisher: Glagoslav Publications B.V.
• ISBN:
  9781909156562
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Poetry
• Index: Literature

Who better to tell the story of Ukraine than a kobzar, one of the country's blind wandering minstrels that sang of its history and people? It is this iconic and entertaining figure, who walked the land and conveyed its traditions, that serves as the prism through which Taras Shevchenko composed his pioneering collection of poems, The Kobzar. The origin of the poems themselves is extraordinary. Written over a span of nearly 25 years, they mark many crossroads in Shevchenko's life. They were composed in villages and cities, in prison and in exile; they are filled with Ukraine's expansive steppes and verdant groves, peopled with decent individuals yearning for freedom and those who would deny it, and animated by trees, the moon and stars that converse. Shevchenko's life from serfdom to exile and international artistic acclaim is the cloth from which each poem is cut. History and culture are intertwined with meditations on forgiveness and grace, religion and morality; the poems' epic scope is complemented with lyrical reflections on subjects that include fame and fortune, love and lust, and the meek and mighty. Of these, family and home become overarching themes, which the poet considers to be of supreme value. As a foundational text, The Kobzar has played an important role in galvanizing the Ukrainian identity and in the development of Ukrainian literature and its written language. The first editions were censored by the czar, but the book still made an enduring impact on Ukrainian culture. There is no reliable count of how many editions of the book have been published, but an official estimate made in 1976 put the figure in Ukraine at 110 during the Soviet period alone. That figure does not include Kobzars released before and after both in Ukraine and abroad. A multitude of translations of Shevchenko's verse into Slavic, Germanic and Romance languages, as well as Chinese, Japanese, Bengali, and many others attest to his impact on world culture as well. The poet is honored with more than 1250 monuments in Ukraine, and at least 125 worldwide, including such capitals as Washington, Ottawa, Buenos Aires, Warsaw, Moscow and Tashkent. Former U.S. President Dwight Eisenhower unveiled the one in Washington.

HAIDAMAKS48

To Vasyl Ivanovych Hryhorovych49

In Memory of April 22, 183850

All is passing, all is fleeting — forever without end.

Whither goes it? Whence?

Neither fool nor wise man knows.

Living… Dying… One thing blossoms,

One thing wilts… It wilts for all eternity…

And winds have swept the yellowed leaves.

But the sun will rise as always,

And red stars that always drifted

Will later drift as well, and you, the pale moon

Will rise to dance upon the azure sky.

You’ll rise to gaze upon the trough and well,

Upon the endless sea, and you’ll shine,

As you once did in Babylon above its Hanging Gardens,51

And will above our sons and all their twists of fate.

You’re eternal, limitless!.. I love to speak with you,

As if you were a sibling,

And to sing the thoughts to you that you whispered unto me.

Advise me once again, what am I to do with sorrow?

I’m not alone, I’m not an orphan —

I have children, but what to do with them?

Bury them with me? That’s a sin, for they’ve a living soul!

Perhaps its lot upon this world may ease

If someone reads the tear-stained words

That is once spewed out so earnestly,

That it so furtively cried over.

No, I’ll bury nothing, for there’s that living soul.

Like the endless stretch of azure sky,

So too the soul exists with no beginning and no end.

But where is it to go? Empty words!

May someone on this world recall it —

It’s hard to leave this world for the man of ill-repute.

Remember, girls — you must remember!

It loved you, O my rosy blossoms,

And it loved to serenade your fate.

Rest, my children, till the sunrise,

And I’ll ponder where to get a chief.

My sons, O haidamaks!

The world is broad, it’s free —...