Page:The Kobzar of the Ukraine.pdf/93

Rh

O the very limit
 * has our country come,

Her own children
 * crucify her
 * worse than the Poles.

How like beer
 * they draw off
 * her righteous blood.

They would, you see
 * enlighten the maternal eyes
 * with everlasting fires;

Lead on the poor blind cripple
 * after the spirit of the age,
 * German fashion!

Fine, go ahead,
 * show us the way!

Let the old mother learn
 * how to look after such children

Show away!
 * For this instruction,

Don't worry—
 * Good motherly reward will be.

The illusion fades
 * from your greedy eyes

Glory shall you see,
 * such glory as fits
 * the sons of deceitful sires.

To study then, my brothers. Think and read.