Ivan Franko MOSES Translated by Vera Rich
Ivan Franko MOSES Translated by Vera Rich PROLOGUE My people, tortured utterly and shattered, Like a poor cripple at the cross-roads lying, By man's contempt, as if with scabs, bespattered! My soul is filled for you with care and sighing, And burning shame permits my sleeping never, To see the fate before your children lying! Can it be some iron decalogue for ever Names you dung 'neath your neighbours' feet, the cattle Drawing the chariot of their swift endeavour? Or that your destiny must show its mettle In hate concealed, humility pretended, To all who by betrayal or in battle Have fettered you, forced you to swear dependence? Are you alone granted no deed of wonder, Which would reveal your powers without ending? Or that in vain for you so great a number Of hearts burned in love's holiest oblation, Offering soul and body for you humbly? In vain your landscape soaked with a libation Of the blood of your heroes? And forbidden The joys of beauty, healing, liberation? In vain the sparks within your language hidden Of might and softness, power and humour thronging, All that can lift the soul to peaks untrodden? In vain your music flows with notes of longing, And chiming laughter, ecstasy of loving, Of hopes and joys in a shaft bright and songful? Ivan Franko. Moses. Tr. Vera Rich 2 O no! Not only tears and sighs will hover Over you. For I trust the mighty spirit That shall your resurrection day discover! O could I start a wave that hears words quiver, And start a word whose bright illumination Will fill that wave with living fire forever! Or start a song, afire with inspiration, A song to stir the multitudes, to lead them, Winging them on the way towards salvation.
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