Read more: Taras Shevchenko. The case of a personal fight against the Russian Empire
200 years later, the same topics are still relevant in Ukraine. But artist Andriy Yermolenko is doing everything to change that. "Shevchenko was never convenient for the ruling authorities, so they did everything for people to stop reading him," Andriy told Euromaidan Press. According to Andriy, the exaltation of the poet to the state of a "party icon" prevents people from actually reading his writings. And that is why little changed in Ukraine over the last 200 years. To spark up the "party icon" image, Andriy shows a contemporary Shevchenko in his project Shevchenkiana: he becomes Superman bearing the "T.Sh." monogram, a traditional Ukrainian Kozak, a policeman, biker, rock star.
"I want him to stop being relevant, so that there would finally be no masters in Ukraine, and for the bloodsuckers to perish, and so that Shevchenko would finally lose his relevance and stop being a prophet. He demanded: 'arise, tear asunder your chains,' and in response we start talking about how awesome he is."It seems that Andriy's efforts have not been in vain. After Ukrainians rose up in Euromaidan revolution to depose the "bloodsucking" corrupt President Yanukovych and his cohort, they are not only forced to continue their battle against a hybrid Russian invasion, but are struggling to change the corrupt system which is incompatible with a dignified life. Often, Shevchenko leads the way. Here are some ways that Shevchenko contributes to Ukraine's ongoing struggle against military aggression and for democracy, in pictures of various artists and translations of his poems to English.
By telling Ukrainians to rise up
"Bury me and arise Tear asunder your chains, And water your liberty With blood of your foes. Then in the great family, A renewed people, and free Do not forget to speak softly And not unkindly of me."
From Testament; hear it read aloud by Serhiy Nihoyan, the Armenian-Ukrainian protester that was the first to be shot at Euromaidan; read the whole poem translated by Stephen Komarnyckyj [expand title="by clicking here:"] When I die, then bury me In a grave amidst The width of the Steppe In my beloved Ukraine, So that in the broad pastures By the Dnipro and its banks I can see and hear The river's roaring waters. When it bears from Ukraine, Into the blue sea, The blood of our foes... Only then Will I abandon The pasture and the mountain, To ascend to God and pray... Till then I shall not know the deity. Bury me and arise Tear asunder your chains, And water your liberty With blood of your foes. Then in the great family, A renewed people, and free Do not forget to speak softly And not unkindly of me. Translated by Stephen Komarnyckyj [/expand]By telling them to keep fighting
"Keep fighting—you are sure to win! God helps you in your fight! For fame and freedom march with you, And right is on your side!"
From Prometheus; read full poem, translated by John Weir [expand title="by clicking here:"] Planted thick with human woe, laved with human blood. Chained to a rock, age after age Prometheus there bears Eternal punishment—each day His breast the eagle tears. It rends the heart but cannot drain The life-blood from his veins— Each day the heart revives again And once again is gay. Our spirit never can be downed, Our striving to be free. The sateless one will never plow The bottom of the sea. The vital spirit he can't chain, Or jail the living truth. He cannot dim the sacred flame, The great god's fame on earth. 'Tis not for us to duel with Thee! Not ours the right to judge Thy deeds! Ours but to weep and weep, and weeping, To knead the daily bread we eat With tears and sweat and blood unending. We groan beneath the yoke of hangmen, While drunken justice sodden sleeps. Oh, when will justice rise at last? And God, when wilt Thou give Thyself from all Thy toil a rest?— And let the people live! Yet we believe in Thy great might And in the living soul. There shall be liberty and right! And then to Thee alone All tongues will pray, all heads will bow For ever and ever. But in the meantime, rivers flow, The blood of men in rivers! Mighty mountains, row on row, blanketed with cloud, Planted thick with human woe, laved with human blood. 'Twas there that We, the Gracious, found Poor freedom hiding 'mid the crags (A hungry thing, and all in rags), And sick'd our dogs to drag her down. A host of soldiers on those hills Gave up their lives. And as for blood! ? All emperors could drink their fill, In widows' tears alone they could Be drowned together with their seed! The sweetheart's tears, in secret shed! Unsolaceable mothers' tears! The heavy tears of fathers hoary! Not streams, but veritable seas Of blazing tears! So—Glory! Glory! To hounds, and keepers of the hounds, And to our rulers golden-crowned Glory!And glory, mountains blue, to you, In ageless ice encased! And glory, freedom's knights, to you, Whom God will not forsake. Keep fighting—you are sure to win! God helps you in your fight! For fame and freedom march with you, And right is on your side!
You love your brother as is writ Within the Golden Rule?! O damned by God, O hypocrites, O sacrilegious ghouls! Not for your brother's soul you care, But for your brother's hide! And off your brother's back you tear: Rich furs for daughter's pride. A dowry for your bastard child, And slippers for your spouse. And for yourself, things that your wife Won't even know about!
For whom, O Jesus, Son of God, Then wert Thou crucified? For us good folks, or for the word Of truth... . Or to provide A spectacle at which to laugh? : That's what has come to pass. Temples and chapels, icons and shrines, And candlesticks, and myrrh incense, And genuflexion, countless times Before Thy image, giving thanks For war and loot and rape and blood— To bless the fratricide they beg Thee, Then gifts of stolen goods they bring Thee, From gutted homes part of the loot!... We're civilised! And we set forth To enlighten others, To make them see the sun of truth .... Our blind, simple brothers!! We'll show you everything! If but Yourselves to us you'll yield. The grimmest prisons how to build, How shackles forge of steel, And how to wear them!. . . How to pleat The crudest knouts!—Oh yes, we'll teach You everything! If but to us Your mountains blue you'll cede, The last ... because your seas and fields We have already seized. And you, my good Yakov, you also were driven To die in those mountains! Your life you have given For your country's hangmen, and not for Ukraine , Your life clean and blameless. 'Twas your fate to drain The Muscovite goblet, the full, fatal draught! Oh friend good and noble, who'll be never forgot! Now wander, free spirit, all over Ukraine And with the brave Cossacks soar over her coast, Keep watch o'er the grave mounds on her spreading plains, And weep with the Cossacks o'er all of her woes, And wait till from prison I come home again, And in the meantime —I shall sow My thoughts, my bitter tears, My words of wrath. Oh, let them grow And whisper with the breeze. The gentle breezes from Ukraine Will lift them up with dew And carry them to you, my friend!... And when they come to you, You'll welcome them with tender tears And read each heartfelt line.... The mounds, the steppes, the sea and me They'll bring back to your mind." Translated by John Weir [/expand]By showing an example of love to Ukraine
"Bright star! My tears fall. Have you risen above Ukraine now?"
From "The sun sets;" read full poem, translated by Stephen Komarnyckyj [expand title="by clicking here:"] The birds fall silent, the field is mute People happily lay down to sleep, But I lay awake and look... my heart Yearns for a dark orchard in Ukraine. I yearn, I yearn, remembering And in memories my heart rests. The fields darken, the forest And the mountains too... and a star Rises in a sky so blue... Oh star! Bright star! My tears fall. Have you risen above Ukraine now And do those dark eyes seek you Among the sky's expanse of blue? Or have they forgotten all? When they forget then let them sleep So that they do not know my fate. [/expand]By reminding them not to be slaves
"I thought “If the slaves Had not bowed down These palaces would not stand Above the river, defiling all... A brother or a sister would survive But... there is nothing now..."
From "Once, at night, while I walked." To read full poem [expand title="click below."] Once, at night, while I walked. Beside the Neva … and thought To myself, as my mind talked “If it had” I thought “If the slaves Had not bowed down These palaces would not stand Above the river, defiling all... A brother or a sister would survive But... there is nothing now... Neither God nor Demi God Only the dog trainers rule And we, the most adept of them Weep and nourish their hounds again!” Thus I, to myself, at night Beside the Neva as I walked Thinking fine thoughts. I did not see Over the river as if from a pit The eyes of a kitten blink... But it was just two lamps Shining by the Apostol's Gate. I fell silent and crossed myself And spat three times just to be sure And then walked on again and thought Of the things I had thought before. Translated by Stephen Komarnyckyj[/expand]Read also: Taras, Nadiya, and the empire of slaves
[hr] About the translators: Stephen Komarnyckyj runs Kalyna Language Press. Kalyna Language Press began as a small scale literary publisher in 2011.We have published a book of Ukrainian poetry in partnership with Waterloo Press, which won an English PEN award in 2013 and was subsequently voted reader's favourite on the PEN World Bookshelf. Our recent publications include translations of two of Ukraine's best contemporary authors, Vasyl Shkliar and Liubov Holota. Raven’s Way is a tale from Ukraine’s independence war set in the twenties, which combines Cossacks, Amazons and Witches with graphic battle scenes. Episodic Memory is a beautifully crafted fictionalised memoir of a Steppe childhood. The book reads as if it were written in three dimensional ink. Please check out their website for forthcoming publications: www.kalynalanguagepress.com
