Page:The Kobzar of the Ukraine.pdf/126

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S the nights pass, so pass the days, The year itself passes. Again I hear the rustling
 * of autumn leaves.

The light of the eyes is fading, Memory is in the heart asleep. Everything sleeps,
 * and I know not

If I live or am already dead. For so, aimless
 * I wander in the world

No longer weep nor laugh.

Fate, where art thou?
 * Fate, where art thou?

There's none of any sort! Dost grudge me good fate,
 * Oh God,

Then send it bad, as bad. Leave me not
 * to a walking sleep.

With heart like bears' in wintry den, Nor yet like rotten log
 * on earth to lie;

But give me to live.