Page:The Kobzar of the Ukraine.pdf/139

Rh If he weeps, then I shall weep,
 * If not, I sing.

If my dark-haired one has perished,
 * I shall perish, too.

Then bear my soul away
 * Where my loved one is,

Plant me as a red viburnum
 * On his tomb.

Better that an orphan lie
 * In a stranger's field,

Over him his sweetheart
 * Will bud and bloom.

As a blossom of viburnum
 * Over him I'll bloom,

That foreign sun may burn him not,
 * Nor strangers trample on his tomb.

At even I'll grieve,
 * In the morning I'll weep.

The sun comes up,
 * My tears I'll dry,

And no one sees.

Mighty wind, mighty wind!
 * With the sea thou speakest.

Waken it, play on it,
 * Question the blue sea.