Page:The Kobzar of the Ukraine.pdf/119

Rh When sometimes in Ukraine
 * they speak of my memory.

Carry my tears then
 * Oh God of loving kindness,

Or at least
 * send hope into my soul.

I can think no more
 * with my poor head.

For coldness of death
 * comes on me

When I think that they may
 * bury me in foreign soil

And bury my thoughts with me
 * And none tell about me
 * in the Ukraine.

And yet it may be
 * that gently through the years

My tear-embroidered songs
 * shall fly sometime

And fall
 * as dew upon the ground

On the tender heart of youth. And youth shall nod assent. And weep for me Making mention of me in its prayers. Well, as it will be
 * so it will be.

Perhaps 'twill swim
 * Perhaps 'twill wade

Yet even if they crucify me for it I'll still write my verses.