«Thoughts away, you heavy clouds of autumn! For now, springtime comes, agleam with gold!» — Lesya Ukrainka. The best poems of Ukrainian classics about spring
Margo Kruk. There will be young chickadees, 2023 / Facebook, «Sil-Sol»
On the eve of the end of the long winter and the arrival of the awaited spring, we all want a poetic, uplifted mood. Renewal of feelings and anticipation of something lyrical and sublime are embodied in the works of outstanding Ukrainian poets — Lesya Ukrainka, Taras Shevchenko, Volodymyr Sosiura, and Pavlo Tychyna.
LESYA UKRAINKA
CONTRA SPEM SPERO! (Against all Hope I Hope!)
Thoughts away, you heavy clouds of autumn!
For now springtime comes, agleam with gold!
Shall thus in grief and wailing for ill-fortune
All the tale of my young years be told?
No, I want to smile through tears and weeping,
Sing my songs where evil holds its sway,
Hopeless, a steadfast hope forever keeping,
I want to live! You thoughts of grief, away!
On poor sad fallow land unused to tilling
I’ll sow blossoms, brilliant in hue,
I’ll sow blossoms where the frost lies, chilling,
I’ll pour bitter tears on them as due.
And those burning tears shall melt, dissolving
All that mighty crust of ice away.
Maybe blossoms will come up, unfolding
Singing springtime too for me, some day.
Up the flinty steep and craggy mountain
A weighty ponderous boulder I shall raise,
And bearing this dread burden, a resounding
Song I’ll sing, a song of joyous praise.
In the long dark ever-viewless night-time
Not one instant shall I close my eyes,
I’ll seek ever for the star to guide me,
She that reigns bright mistress of dark skies.
Yes, I’ll smile, indeed, through tears and weeping
Sing my songs where evil holds its sway,
Hopeless, a steadfast hope forever keeping,
I shall live! You thoughts of grief, away!
A FORMER SPRING
The spring came lovely, prodigal, and sweet,
All bathed in brilliant light and strewing flowers;
She swiftly flew, and after her there came
A swarm of birds who piped with all their powers.
New life had come and all things had a voice:
The greenwood rustled in a joyous mood,
In all there was a song, a smile, or ringing tone,
But I lay sick and weak, in solitude.
I lay and thought: «The spring has come for all;
For everyone she has a gift to bring;
But yet for me alone she has no gift,
I am forgotten by the jocund spring».
Nay, spring did not forget! An apple tree
Tapped with its branches on my window pane;
The tender green leaves flashed before my eyes,
The snowy blossoms dropped like falling rain.
Then in my narrow chamber came a breeze,
Which sang to me of spring’s broad, free domain,
And with it came the music of the birds,
While all the forest echoed its refrain.
My soul can nevermore forget the gift
Which lovely spring brought to me where I lay;
No other spring e’er was and e’er shall be
Like that which in my window bloomed that day.
TARAS SHEVCHENKO
SPRING HAS RISEN
Spring came and woke the sleepy earth
From its deep winter sleep:
With primroses it was adorned
And periwinkles sweet;
The larks in fields and nightingales
In groves each morning sing
Their sweetest songs in joyful praise
Of earth adorned by spring…
BY A SPRING A SYCAMORE
By a spring a sycamore
On the hilltop grows.
Down the hill into the vale
Swift the water flows.
Soft of hue, a guelder rose
Blossoms on the green,
And a leafy willow tree
Weeps beside the stream.
Round a wood the stream it runs,
And its voice is gay.
Near the bank, amid the sedge,
Ducklings splash and play.
Mother Duck and Father Duck
Swim beside their brood.
Mother Duck the ducklings shows
How to look for food.
То the stream a maiden comes,
Two bright pails she brings.
To the stream a maiden comes
And a song she sings.
To her side her parents haste;
There she sits, the lass.
«Tell us who our child will wed!»
Of the stream they ask.
VOLODYMYR SOSIURA
I LOVE SPRING…
I love spring, who doesn’t?
When life blooms like a lush garden.
And, like in a dream, the leaves whisper to my lips,
And the flowers send a sweet fragrance.
I love spring when the rivers are splashing,
When the nightingale sobs with happiness
And the sun looks under my eyelids
In the silence of thoughtful alleys…
I love it when the moon wanders in the grasses,
Whitens the huts with its rays
And drinks the warmth of gentle nights,
And the smoke of fog floats on the fields…
Spring has dressed the oak branches in green,
The cranes are already cawing in the sky.
I love spring, who doesn’t?
on this wonderful, joyful land!
NO ONE EVER HAS LOVED SO MUCH
No one ever has loved so much deeply, a lot.
After myriads of years, there’ll come back the affection of rose.
On the earth, there’d be blooming the spring,
And the land, on that day, at the dawn, would be clothed…
And the earth will be breathing so calmly and freely
in the blue of the morning that rings,
holding out its hands to the stars’ shining rain…
On such day, on the earth, there blooms the green spring
Slightly trembling from a sweet, living pain…
From your eyes, full of pleasure and joy, my heart fades,
shining up in the nebula in the bright high…
and the blood’s running on, as it flows in the veins,
smelling of sour herbs so refined…
Oh my moon so much quiet!..oh my stars so much bright!..
where else, so much love, have you seen?..
and for her, I will fetch the Gold Orion from the sky,
As a poet, a worker as much as you’ve been…
No one ever has loved so much deeply, a lot.
After myriads of years, there’ll come back the affection of rose.
On the earth, there’d be blooming the spring,
And the land, on that day, at the dawn, would be clothed…
And the earth will be breathing so calmly and freely
in the blue of the morning that rings,
holding out its hands to the stars’ shining rain…
On such day, on the earth, there blooms the green spring
Slightly trembling from a sweet, living pain…
PAVLO TYCHYNA
DO YOU KNOW HOW A LINDEN TREE RUSTLES
Do you know how a linden tree rustles
On moonlit nights in spring?
Beloved sleeps, beloved sleeps,
Go wake her up, give her eyes kisses.
Beloved sleeps…
And now you’ve heard: that’s how the lindens rustle.
Do you know how old groves sleep?
They see all things through mists.
Here are the moon, stars, nightingales…
«I’m yours» — the olden trees hear someplace
And nightingales!..
But you already know how the groves sleep!
SPRING
Spring, spring! What a blue sky,
How clear everything is!
The bud blossom is walking through the gardens,
and in the sky — the goldenrod.
Spring, spring! What a song
on the wings of the wind? —
and then it runs up and disappears
a cloud, cloudy river.
Noise from above comes from the bubbling water;
the river with its ridge
carries solemnly forward
a cheerful, crossed scrap.
The blue forest is not yet verdant,
but the flowers have sprouted
already lifted and discerned
last year’s dead leaves.
And there, in the deep,
where the sinking gum tree sinks,
a pearl lark is drowning:
a cloudy, cloudy spring!
