Shevchenko's poetry in Ukrainian. Learn the life story of the legendary poet on an exciting tour

I love the woman and stink
They loved me to death,
Above me my genius cat,
And in my soul I am a child quivering ...

I present a new book of the Kiev writer Lyubov Gontaruk, consecrated to Shevchenko and yogo kohanim zhіnka, yak blew the light in the first days of 2014. The burning rows of poetry of Taras Grigorovich, dedicated to these non-transversal women, suffocated Lyubov Romanivna on the creation of this book. The book is absolutely free of pathos, it’s not enough to try to become a writer who is close to that mind for the modern people of the 21st century.

The respect for the greatness of the successors is attached to the great creative decline of the poet, but not so richly the legacy is dedicated to his special life. In his monograph "Taras Shevchenko" the literary scholar Marietta Shagnyan states: For someone who is as great as that and mustache people, the succession, the history of a whole generation is revealed ... It is especially true when it comes to Taras Grigorovich Shevchenko. Zahalnovidomo, that Shevchenko never had friends and never had children. Wanting to win like this and not having created a homely lull, about which the whole hour of dreams, Shevchenko was by no means a self-reclusive recluse, wine kohav and boo kohanim. And really, the share of the poet turned out quite tragically: childhood and youth, spent at the krіpatstvі, yogo z "language with Cyril and Methodius comradeship, and as a result, they were arrested and sent without the right to write and maluvati. , vіn die at 47 rokіv, happy with the young, from the point of view of a modern person, vіtsі, if deyakі modern people, having reached career success, create their own sim'ї.

The book “I love them. Kohani women of T. G. Shevchenko " it is composed of ten divisions, skins from such devotions to women, in the same way Taras Grigorovich dies in the singing period of his life. The author started the leather with a quote from Taras Grigorovich, and then continued the monologue of the stale poet with great poetry, Shevchenko's rows suffocated on it.

Lyubov Romanivna Dozhe Dovgo vaneden, the thought of the written books, wested Matereal about Shevchenka, that romantic Igo Yogo Kohannya, knew the portraits of Tsich Zhinok, Yaki Buli Shopyas Grigorovich himself, re -read Bagato ate, mayzhe 200 years, to find out more about those times and traditions, etiquette between men and women of the first half of the nineteenth century.

First love "yu Taras Bula Oksana Kovalenko.Їй assigned poem "Mar" yana-chernitsa . And tell me about the beauty Oksana sings waving at the top “We vkupochtsi when we grew ».

When we grew together,
Loved by little ones.
And mothers marveled at us
She said that if
Let's make friends. Didn't guess.
The old ones died in advance,
And my little ones grew apart
But they didn’t converge at all.
Me at will and captivity
Worn everywhere. brought
In old age, ice and home.
Have fun when the village
Chomus now me, the old one,
It seemed dark and silent,
So, like I am now, we are old.
I run around, in the village poor,
I'm so fussy, nothing
Did not grow and did not rot,
So sobi, like it was.
І yar, і field, і poplars,
І above the spring willow.
I bent down like that zhurba
Far away in self-imposed captivity.
Rates, rowing, and windmill
Waving wings for Guy.
І green oak, mov cossack
Іz gayu viyshov ta y walk
Popid up the mountain. Up the mountain
The garden is dark, but in the garden
Lie down in the cold
Mov at Paradise, my old ones.
The crosses of the oaks were shattered,
The words were remembered with a plank ... / 204 /
I do not plan, and not words
Gladesenko erases Saturn ...
Let's rest with the saints
My old... - Chi is alive
Ota Oksanochka? - nourish
My brother is quiet. — Yaka?
- Ota is small, curly,
What was playing with us if.
What are you, brother, squinting?
- I'm not shy. Pomandruvala
Ota Oksanochka on a hike
She disappeared behind the Muscovites.
She returned, however, a year later,
That scho. Z baistryam returned,
She cut her hair. Bulo, at night
Sit under the mud, mov zozulya,
That cuckoo, or scream,
Abo quietly sleeping
That nibi mow is split.
And then again, where did you go,
No one knows where it went,
She got bogged down, fooled.
And what kind of girl was bula,
So so sho! І nevgoga,
The Lord did not give that talent ... -
And maybe, and having given, that one has stolen,
I fooled the holy God.
"Ganni vrodlivy" (that's how Taras called the squad of Colonel Platon Zakrevskiy, the hairdresser of the village of Berezov Rudka, in the Poltava region) sings dedicating therefore "Blind ", as well as poetry "G. 3." that "Yakbi slut me again ...".

The yakbies shot at me again,
Chi ti slyakala b, chi nі?
Yakeє hush you word
Would Toydy promote me?
None. I would not know.
Or maybe I guessed later
Saying: "I dreamed of a bad one."
And I am healthy, my miracle!
My share is dark-brown!
Yakby chatting, guessing
More fun and younger
Too much dashing.
I zaridav bi, zaridav!
I prayed that we are not truthful,
And a cunning dream rose,
Slime-water spilled
How many holy wonders!

[Another half of 1848,
Kosaral]

The author guesses that the history of Shevchenko's Hanni Zakrevskoy. Ignorance of those who Zakrevska was significantly younger than Shevchenko and those who at that very hour Shevchenko was dying Princess Varvara Repnina, having visited the mother at that hour, Taras Grigorovich silently suffocated with a young woman, the squad of his friend Colonel Platon Zakrevsky, who consecrated the verse "G. Z."

No more, like in captivity
Guess about the will. And I
About you, my dear,
Oh, I guess. Nikoli
You didn't give me
Such a garno-young
I such a good
So, like now in a foreign land,
That one is in captivity. Share! Share!
My you are sleeping at will!
Want to look at me because of the Dnipro,
I want to smile because ....
You, my only one,
Get up from the sea,
Behind the fog, hearing
Erysipelas dawn!
You, my only one,
You lead yourself
Lita of my youth,
I in front of me
Nibi the sea to intercede
Wide villages
With cherry orchards
I people have fun.
І tі people, і those villages,
De kolis, mov brother,
They greeted me. Mother!
Old Mother!1
Chi zbirayutsya th dosі
Merry guests
Take a walk at the old
Just take a walk
In the old way, in the old way
From world to world?
And you, my youth
Black children,
merry girl,
I dosi in the old
Are you dancing? And you, down!
And you, my peace!
My holy blackbrive,
I dosi between them
Quiet, do you like writing?
I timi ochima,
Already black - blue,
I dosi charuesh
Human souls? What else and dosi
wonder in vain
On the camp of a vile? Holy is mine!
Holy unity!
How to stumble you, share,
Little girls
chirp in your own way
I call good
Maybe th me inadvertently
Children guess.
Maybe, yak and about me
Say yak famously.
Smile, my heart,
Quietly, quietly
Sob no one and not pobachiv ...
That and more than anything.
And I, pretty much, in captivity
I pray to God.
[Another half of 1848,
Kosaral]

It seems that if Donka Sophia was born to Ganni Zakrevskaya, a man looks at her without looking at her and immediately sees a child in the village. These stosunki were not small for the future, but the stench even got stuck on Shevchenko. At the poet's house, the mother's mother's house, her homeland, her squad, appear. І tse bajannya, tya unstriking spiritual need will accompany the singing of all life.

It’s a good time to direct Shevchenko at the scammer, but Varvara Repnina does not stop fussing about Shevchenko’s letters, in which the genius has baptized her. Taras Grigorovich deeply sympathized with this ingenious and extraordinary woman, consecrating her let's say "Trizna" she presented her self-portrait. Ale, it’s suspіlna prirva between the colossal krіpak and the princess, read those that Hanna Zakrevsky lay in his heart at the same time did not give the opportunity for these friendly stosunki to outgrow more.

Princess, you look licorice!
Oh God, what a day setting?
I did not kiss your hand,
There was a spark in my flesh
I became so submissive!

The very same love tricoutter has already made Lyubov Romanivna happy and gave impetus to writing a whole book about women, whom Shevchenko loved. The book was written in one podikhu, skin wound naruzhuvavsya vіsh, which year vyvіyshov before the book. All the stories of the kohannya, these women were real articles, we know about the skin of them more or less, but all the ignorance and even more amazing stories.

It is impossible not to guess the Taras Grigorovich Yadviga Gusikovskaya, yakіy vіn recited Mіtskevich and consecrated the verse to my Polish language. First kohannya and first rozcharuvannya - the young one sings over the painfully distinguished difference between the free Pole Yadzeya and her unwieldy, kripatsky camp. In the list to his fellow artist Ivan Soshenok, he writes: “Once for those that I spent time on walks with Yadviga, I was taken away by a boat. The pain was not so body, like the soul.

Why unhappy kripak
Without God giving freedom,
Your free Lord,
Simple joy to hands,
Family - calm and welcome?

Most of these romantic stosunkivs struck the author of Shevchenko's Feodosiya Kositsy. Almost as far as Feodosiya it was mutual, the maiden wanted to go for a new zamіzh, but at the head of the ship becoming a father - Grigory Kositsa, a priest from the village of Kirilivka, who did not give his daughter his blessing. Tse already struck the poor girl, but she could not drink against the will of the fathers and nevdovz zvozhevolila in grief. I mi nemov bi chuёmo in tsikh rimovanih ranks rozpach poet, like having spent hope for happiness.

Pretty much my unfortunate
Why don't you love it so much?
Did not give the poet happiness
You might lose...

Nineteenteen Liquor Half Mack- the rest of Shevchenko's love, the rest of hope in the homeland of happiness. But the young girl could not appreciate a little bit of a prominent poet, having given priority to the leader Yakovlev.

Over the mighty and sivim Dniprom
Navit in the bright calm of summer
Without this, I am self-winged.
Who zoomed in on me like that?

The book “I love them. Kokhani zhіnki T. G. Shevchenko ”maє even shaky looking, it was created in a style that was close to romanticism, if Shevchenko is alive and creating. Let us see that it is illustrated with dbaily chosen colorful portraits of these women, as if by protracted life they suffocated a prominent Ukrainian, and whose images often appear in yoga creations.

Before the anniversary of the Kobzar, thousands of articles will be written, dozens of books will be seen, hundreds of conferences, round tables, and concerts will be held. Ale is impressed that, regardless of the greatness of the number of different visits, that publication of the book of Lyubov Romanivna Gontaruk zblisne at this source of information and always know your reader.

TRIZNA

DEDICATION

A soul with a wonderful purpose
Must love, endure, suffer;
And the gift of the Lord, inspiration,
Should be watered with tears.
You understand this word!
For you I joyfully folded
Your worldly fetters
I clergy again
And poured tears into sounds.
Your kind angel has dawned
Me with immortal wings
And quiet words
Dreams of paradise awakened.

Having cleansed your souls in obedience to the truth in spirit, in brotherly love without hypocrisy, from a pure heart, love each other diligently: beget not from the seed of the corrupted, but not corrupted, by the word of the living God and abiding forever. For all flesh is like grass, and all the glory of man is like the flower of grass: the grass is gone, and its flower is gone. But the word of the Lord endures forever. This is the word that is preached in you.
The Epistle of the First Holy Apostle Peter. 1, 22 - 25.

Twelve appliances on a round table,
Twelve tall glasses stand;
And the hour goes by
Nobody comes
Must be friends
They are forgotten.
They are not forgotten - at the appointed time,
Fulfilling the vow, friends gathered,
And the eternal memory was sung by the cathedral,
They sent a feast - and everyone dispersed.
There were twelve of them; everyone was young
Beautiful and strong; last year
They buried their best friend
And a commemoration was established for a friend that day,
Until they go on a date with him.
"Happy brotherhood! Unity of love
You honored sacredly on sinful earth;
Come together, friends, as they have now converged,
Come together for a long time and a new song
Sing freedom in the slave land!

Blessed is your little way,
A miserable stranger, unknown!

You are the miraculous power of the Lord
I could breathe into the hearts of people
Fire of love, fire of heaven.
Blessed! You are God's will
Sanctified by a short life;
In the vale of slavery, the joy of will
Silently you proclaimed.
When a brother of a brother craves blood -
You combined love in strangers;
Freedom to people - in their brotherhood
You showed with a great word:
You brought peace to the world;
And, departing, blessed
Freedom of thought, spirit of love!
Chosen soul, why
Have you visited us so little?
You are cramped here, it was hard!
But you loved the local captivity,
You, immaculate, looked,
Grieving for vain people.
But the angel was missing
At the Eternal King of kings;
And you are in heaven in eternal glory
Standing at the throne of God
To our world, dark and evil,
You look with an innocent longing. /241/
I revere you
I marvel in silent trembling;
I pray with a yearning soul,
Like praying to an angel!
Come down, send me healing!
Inspire, cast on a cold mind
Though there are few bright, pure thoughts;
Even for a single moment
Illuminate the dungeon of the heart
And the darkness of obstinate thoughts
And disperse, and pacify.
Truly, in quiet words,
You tell me all your
Earthly well-being
And learn to own hearts
Puffy people and their own,
Already corrupted, already evil...
Tell me the secret teaching
Loving proud people
And the speech meek and humility
Soften the people's executioners,
May I proclaim the hymn of the prophets,
And bring down the truth,
And fading eyes
Without fear I will raise to the sky.
And in this hour of the last torment
Send me true friends
Lay down your cold hands
And unselfishness of firs
Shed from friendly eyes.
Bless my suffering
I will gladly smile at death,
And to eternal life with hope
I will ascend to heaven for you.

Blessed is your little way,
The visitor is not glorified, wonderful!

In a poor, unknown family
He grew up; and life's work,
Like an orphan, he met early;
He met evil reproaches
For daily bread ... In the heart of the wound
The snake gnawed through ... Children's dream / 242 /
Disappeared like a fearful dove;
Yearning, like a thief, impatiently,
Hiding in a broken heart
Lips greedily bit
And sucked innocent blood...
The soul was torn, the soul was crying,
I asked for freedom ... The mind was on fire,
Pride bubbling in the blood...
He was trembling... He was numb...
The hand was trembling...
Oh, if he could the globe
Grab with an angry hand
With all the reptiles of the earth;
Seize, crush and throw into hell! ..
He would be happy, he would be glad.
He laughed like a fierce demon,
And lasted a terrible minute,
And the world burned on all sides;
He sobbed, he was dumb in a frenzy,
The soul was tormented by a terrible dream,
The soul was dead, and all around
Earth, God's creation,
In green robe and flowers,
Meeting spring, rejoiced.
The soul awakened joyfully,
And woke up ... He is in tears
Fell down and kisses the ground
Like mother's mother's soul! ..
He is again a pure angel of Paradise,
And on earth he is a stranger to everyone.
Looked at the sky: "Oh, how clear,
How delightful - wonderful!
Oh, how free it will be for me! .. "
And eyes in a wonderful drowsiness
Aims at the vault of heaven
And in the infinite depth
The soul of an innocent drowns.

According to the height of the holy, wide,
White handkerchief, lonely,
A transparent cloud floats into the distance.
“Ah, cloud, cloud, who carries
You so smoothly, so high?
What are you? And why /243/
So magnificently, cutely dressed up?
Where have you been sent and by whom?
And the cloud quietly melted
In a bright sky. The look is dull
He lowered into the dark forest...
"And where is the end of the world, the end of heaven,
The ends of the earth?..” And a deep sigh,
Unchildish sigh, he let out;
As if in a lonely heart
He buried hope.

In whom there is no faith, there is no hope!
Hope is God, and faith is light.

"Do not go out, my luminary!
Disperse the fog of the soul,
Live me with Your strength
And the path is thorny, the path is dull
Illuminate with heavenly light.
Send to mind your sanctuary,
Drink with holy inspiration,
Yes, I proclaim blessings
What is commanded by You! .. "

He didn't give up hope.
The spirit perked up like a dove on high,
And the darkness of the heart, the darkness of the vale
Illuminated with heavenly light;
He went to look for life, share,
Already passed the native field,
The village was already hidden...
Something suddenly became a pity,
A tear pierced the eyelashes,
The heart sank and broke.
We are sorry for something in our past,
And there is something in the native land ...
But he, the poor man, he is not his own,
And here and there. Our planet
Our beautiful world, earthly paradise,
In all directions, a stranger to him.
He crouched silently to the cute dust
And, like a native, he kissed,
Sobbing, quiet and sad
I read a prayer on the way ... / 244 /
And with a firm, free foot
Went... And disappeared behind the mountain.
Outside the native land
Wandering beggar, orphan,
What tears did not flow!
What a terrible price
I bought the mind of knowledge,
And kept the virginity of the heart.

Without cowardly reproach
Go through the ordeals of a difficult life,
Measure the abyss of passions
Realize people's lives
Read all the black pages
All illegal things...
And keep the eagle flying
And the heart of a pure dove!
This is a man! .. Live without a roof
(Orphans and the sun does not warm),
People to know - and love!
Gentle heart regretting
About their unworthy deeds
And not blaspheming in the dark,
Like the king of the mind. Poor, poor
For a piece of daily food,
A mighty fool
And think, feel and live!..
Here is a terrible drama, holy! ..
And he went through it, weeping,
He severely played her
without a word; he did not interpret
Your daily adventures
Like an edifying novel;
Didn't reveal heart wounds
And the darkness of various dreams,
And Byronic fog
He did not let; an insignificant crowd
He did not abuse his friends;
Officials and authorities did not execute,
Like N, a cautious herald,
And the one who thinks without end
About the thoughts of Kant, Galileo,
Cosmopolitan sage,
And people judge without regret /245/
brother and father;
That false prophet! His judgments are
Half ideas, half nonsense!

Seeing life's purpose,
Great judgment of God
In introspective thought
He raised his teary eyes
On the beauty of holy nature.
"How everyone agrees!" he whispered
And remembered the native land;
God has justice and freedom
He prayed to all living
And meek thought followed
The deeds of the past nations,
Affairs of his native country,
And wept bitterly... “O holy one!
My holy home!
How can I help you, sobbing?
And you are chained, and so am I.
The great word of God's will
Tell tyrants - they won't understand!
And in the native beautiful field
The prophet will be stoned!
Erase the high graves
And they will carry them with the word of evil!
You were killed, crushed;
And praise was forbidden
Your great deeds!
Oh my God! Strong and true
Miracles are possible for you.
Fill the heavens with glory
And create a holy miracle:
They ordered the dead to rise,
Bless with an almighty word
On a new and severe feat,
For the redemption of the earth
Land desecrated, forgotten,
Spilled with the purest blood,
Once a happy land."
Like clouds, thoughts diverged,
And tears dripped like rain!.. /246/
Blessed is he in the world who is a small share,
I am free to give crumbs from the meal
Hungry brother and evil will
Though he could tame the harsh power!
Blessed and free! .. But the one who is not an eye,
And looks with his soul at the intrigues of people,
And can only cry in lonely anguish -
O truthful God, deprive you of your eyes! ..
Your mountains, Your sea,
All the beauties of nature
Can't atone for his grief
They won't give you freedom.
And he, the sufferer of a short life,
All seen, felt and lived,
People, having known, loved
And yearned for them furtively.
He and the people fell in love *, [* Like a flower that bloomed in their swamp.]
And he called them brothers;
Found friends and secret power
He charmed his friends to himself;
Between young friends
Sometimes thoughtful... sometimes
Like a magician, a young broadcaster
With sonorous, lively speeches
Friends were suddenly amazed;
And the strength of friendship between them,
Blessing, strengthening.
He said that the common good
Gotta buy love
And with noble courage
Stand up for the people and punish evil.
He said that the celebration of life,
Great holiday, God's gift,
Must donate to the fatherland
Should be hit.
He spoke of tender passion,
He spoke quietly, sadly,
And he fell silent! .. In rebellious anguish
He left the table
And wept bitterly. Sad secret,
Longing deep, not random
The sufferer did not share with anyone. /247/
Friends loved with all their hearts
Him as blood; but he
Incomprehensible longing
Was constantly depressed
And between them free speech
He was on fire. But among the guests
When with a thousand lights
Flashing marble shoulders
He sighed heavily about something.
And a gloomy thought flew
In the native country, in the beautiful country,
Where no one expected him
Nobody mentioned him
Not about his fate is unclear.
And he thought: “Why am I here?
And what should I do between them?
They all dance and sing
They are kindred among relatives,
They are all equal
And I! .. ”- And quietly he goes out,
Goes thinking home;
Nobody leaves the house
to meet him; no one is waiting
Everywhere alone ... Longing, languor! ..
And the bright holiday of Sunday
Bears a hundredfold longing.
And he withers, withers, like an epic in the field,
Longingly languishing in a strange side;
And he withers silently ... What a twist
Sunk in his heart depth?
“Oh, woe to me, woe! Why did I leave
Innocence happiness, native country?
Why did I wander, what did I achieve?
Joys of knowledge?.. I swear them, I swear!
They are something to me, worms, exuded my mind,
With my quiet happiness they separated!
To whom shall I tell longing and love?
To whom will I show the wounds of the heart in tears?
I don't have a couple here, I'm a beggar between them,
I am a poor day laborer, a simple worker;
What will I give my friend with my dreams?
Love... Ah, love, love alone!
From her for three centuries, for eternity it would be!
Would have melted her in his arms! /248/
Oh, how tenderly, how tenderly I would love!
And large tears, like sparks, fell down,
And pale cheeks and weak chest
They grew and dried. "Oh let me breathe
Break my skull and tear my chest,
There are worms, there are snakes - let them go free!
Oh, let me sleep quietly, forever!

The unfortunate orphan suffered
Far from the happy homeland,
And waited impatiently for the end.
His favorite dream
Useful to be native land, -
Like a color, it fades with it!
He suffered. Life is emptiness
Before him, the grave opened up:
Brotherly affection was not enough,
The warmth of friends did not warm -
Heavenly sunbeams
Soaring Alkala Soul.
The fire of love that God lit
In a bashful dove's heart
An innocent woman, wherever I could
Flight is lofty, eagle
Stop and merge
The fire of love, innocent love;
Who could he host?
In the light of the heart and mind,
Like a defenseless dove
To hide from the life of sorrows;
And to the young Persians, languishing,
Cling your tired head;
And, numb and sobbing,
In the bosom of life, the bosom of paradise
Just take a moment to rest.
In her eyes, in her languor
And drown the mind and soul,
And melt the heart in the heart,
And drown in self-forgetfulness.

But there was no one to love;
There was no one to combine with;
And the heart cried, and ached,
And froze in the void. /249/
His yearning dream
Something has opened up in the future
And in the infinite height
The holy sky smiled.
Like the wax of a burning candle,
He melted quietly, silently,
And in thoughtful eyes
The fog was falling. Look bashful
On it beauty sometimes
Peace, secretly worried
And sympathetic beauty
Stealingly admired for a long time.
And maybe many were sad
Girlish hearts about him
But by a secret will, a higher power
The lonely path to the grave
Held on sharp stones.
He was exhausted, his chest hurt,
Eyes darkened, behind the cross
The border of eternity blackened
In space dark and empty.
Already in the bed of the grave
He lies quietly, and the light goes out.
Friends yearning advice
His impotent spirit worries.
Alternately spent the night
A friend has true friends;
And every evening I was going
His wonderful family.
Gathered on the last evening
Around the deathbed
And they stayed until the morning.
Already the dawn closed the eyelashes,
Friends sad dream drove,
And he suddenly revived
Their sad dream with experienced fire
Last fiery speeches;
And others consoled each other,
What in seven or eight days
He will sing between friends.
“I won’t sing you a new song
About the glory of my motherland.
Lay down a stern psalm
About the host of people's executioners; /250/
And remember with a free hymn
Forerunner, my friend.
And for sins... his sins
Pray to God earnestly...
And rest with the saints
Sing, friends, over me!”

Friends stood around him
He walked away, they sobbed,
Like children... He sighed softly,
He sighed, sighed... He was gone!
And the world lost the prophet
And the glory of the son lost.

Sadly others suffered
The next morning in the church an oak coffin,
Sobbing, betrayed the earth
The remains of a friend; and bay
Green wreath, young,
Irrigated with tears of friendship
And they put it on the grave;
And rest with the saints
They sang softly and sadly.

In a tavern at a round table, at a fraternal table
Already in the evening the friends were sitting around;
Twelve sat sadly and quietly:
Their hearts ached with anguish.
Sad trizna, sad friends! ..
Ah, I sent such a feast.

We agreed by common consent,
So that every year the table is set
On the day of the death of a friend; to be forgotten
Their friend could not be beyond the grave.
And every year they converged
On the day of the death of a friend, remember.

Many have disappeared:
Appliances empty every year,
Friends more and more orphans -
And here is one, how many years
To empty appliances for lunch
The sad old man arrives; /251/
Sadness and joy of youth
One, sadly, remembers.
He sits for a long time, gloomy, quiet,
And waits: is there a brother
Is there even one still alive?
And lonely on the way back
He walks in silence... And now,
Where the round table is set,
The door slowly opened
And brother, that time forgotten,
He came in bent! .. He is sad
He looked around the table with a blank look
And he said with friendly reproach:
“Lazy people! See how the law
Sacred fraternal perform!
They didn't come today
It's like they've gone over the sea! —
And silently wipes away the tears
Sitting down at the fraternal round table. —
If only one came to you!”
The old man sits and waits...

An hour passes, another hour passes
It's time for the old man to go home.
The old man gets up: “Yes, they changed it!
Listen, drink, brother, wine, -
He said to the servant, - anyway,
I can't; passed, what was -
Yes, remember for peace;
And it’s time for me to go home!”
And the tears rolled down again.
The servant, marveling, drank the wine.
“Give me a hat ... What a laziness
Go home! .. ”- and quietly left.

And a year later on the fateful day
Twelve appliances on a round table,
Twelve high glasses stand,
And the day goes by
Nobody comes
Forever, forever forgotten.

As soon as you go for help, you take off additional information about the wife of T. Shevchenko.

Causal

The roar and the stack of the Dnipro is wide,
Angry wind curling,
Dodolu verbi gnat high,
Mountains whilu pіdіyma.
I bright month at that time
Іz gloomily de de de looking,
Nenache chauvin in the blue sea,
Now virinav, then drowning.
Another third pivn did not sleep,
No one is talking anywhere,
Sichi in Gaia called to each other,
That is clear once in a while creaking.

In such good fortune under the mountain,
I beat that guy
What is black above the water,
It's whiter.
Maybe a little mermaid
mothers joke,
Or maybe, wait for the goat,
Shut up.
Not a mermaid blokaє:
That girl walk
I don’t know myself (because it’s causal),
What is it like to work.

So the fortune teller broke,
Sob less bored
Schob, bach, walking around,
Slept and looked
young goat,
What torik leaving.
Promised to return
That, maybe, and having died!
Not covered with Chinese
Cossack eyes,
We didn’t win in person
Slizonki girls:
Eagle waving brown eyes
On a foreign field,
Bile the body of the vovka z "їli, -
Taka Yogo share.
Darma shonich girl
You look.
Black-shaven will not return
She doesn’t welcome
Do not braid your long braid,
Khustka is not the head of the "yazhe,
Not easy - in the domino
Lie down as an orphan!

Such a share... Oh my dear God!
Why are you karaesh її, young?
For those that she loved so much
Cossack eyes?.. Forgive the orphan!
Whom do you love? no father, no Nenko;
Alone, like that bird in a distant land.
Send your share - out
young. -
For people of strangers will laugh.
Chi wine is a dove, what is blue to love?
Chi is guilty of that pigeon that killed the falcon?
Sum. cooing, with light to force,
Litaє, shukaє, thought - getting lost.
Happy dove: flying high,
Polina is up to God - dear to feed.
Whom is the orphan, whom do you ask?
І who їy tell, and who you know,
De mily night: chi in the dark guy,
Chi in the bistrim Danube horse on the loose,
Chi, maybe, with another, another koha,
її. blackberry, is it already forgotten?
Yakbies were given wings to the eagles,
Behind the blue bi sea, I knew the dear one;
I would love a living, I would strangle a friend,
And before the inanimate at the pit would lie.
It is not so heart to love, to share with Kim.
Not so much you want, like God gives us:
I don’t want to live, I don’t want to scold.
“Zhuris”, - seems like a thought, I’m sorry for you.
Oh my God dear! this is your will.
Such її happiness, such ЇЇ share!
Won all walk, s mouth no bet.
Do not talk about the Broad Dnipro:
Breaking the wind black gloom,
Lie the white of the sea to rest,
And from the sky the month is so and so;
І over water and over haєm,
All around, like in a mustache, everything is silent.
Already gulk - from the Dnipro they blamed
Little children, laugh.
"Let's get warm! - shouted -
The sun has already begun! "(Hole creak;
From sedge mowing, more girls).

“What is all here? - cry mother.
Let's go to dinner.
Let's play, let's take a walk
Sleep that little song:

Wow! wow!
Straw "yany spirit, spirit
Mother gave birth to me
I put it down.
Missy!
Our dove!
Come to us to supper:
We have a Cossack in line,
In line, in social,
Silver ring on the hand;

Young, black-browed;
We knew yesterday at the dibrov.
Stay fresh in the clean field,
To work up to the will
While the witches are still flying
Until the pivni do not sleep,
Shine on us... He can walk!
He was under an oak tree to work there.
Wow! wow!

literary heritage Shevchenko, in which poetry plays a central role, in particular the collection "Kobzar", is considered the basis of modern Ukrainian literature and in many ways the literary Ukrainian language. Relax . com . ua offers the best poems to read online.

Learn the life story of the legendary poet on an exciting tour

Do you want to go back two centuries, to the era of the great Kobzar? You will visit Pereyaslav-Khmelnitsky, the Zapovitu Museum. This is the same house-museum, within the walls of which in 1845 Shevchenko bequeathed his will to the people. Then in the Museum of kobza. The incomparable Vitachov with his famous church, which was reconstructed according to the poet's drawings, is waiting for you. And, finally, the picturesque town of Kanev. In this place, one more page of history will turn, the last one in the life of the Ukrainian genius. Interesting? Do not hesitate, very interesting! Waiting for you!

Days pass, nights pass

Days pass, nights pass,
Minae summer, rustle
Zhovkle leafing, go out eyes,
Thoughts fell asleep, heart to sleep,
I fell asleep, I don't know
I live, I live,
Chi so dragging around the world,
For I don’t cry anymore and I don’t laugh ...

Down, de ti! Down, de ti?
None,
If it's a good pity, God,
Then give evil, evil!
Don't let the walker sleep
Freeze with your heart
I rotten deck
Roll around the world.
And let me live, live with my heart
I love people
And if not ... then curse
Light the light!
It's scary to fall at the kaidani,
Dying in captivity
And even worse - sleep, sleep
I sleep in freedom,
I fall asleep nav_k-v_ki,
I don't leave a trail
None, however,
Chi is alive, chi is dead!
Dole, de ti, dole, de ti?
Nothing!
If it's a good pity, God,
Then give evil! evil!

21 chest1845, V’ youths

Order

If I die, then pooh
Me on the grave
The middle of the wide steppe,
Dear in Ukraine,
Schob doe wide-field,
I Dnipro, and steep
It was visible, it was barely,
Yak roaring roaring.
Yak carried from Ukraine
By the blue sea
I'm telling blood ... go away
I fallow deer, and burn -
I will leave everything and Polina
All the way to god
Pray... and before that
I don't know god.
Come on, get up
Break Kaidani
I enemy evil blood
Sprinkle your will.
I am great in this,
In the family, free, new,
Don't forget to remember
Unstoppable with a quiet word.

25 chest1845, in Pereyaslav

I'm thirteen years old

I'm thirteen years old.1
I pastured the lambs outside the village.
Chi it was so sunny,
Chi so me what was it?
I love it so much, it became a pleasure,
Nothing in God ......
Already called to pay,
And I'm with the Buryans
I pray to God... I don't know
Why little me
Toidi prayed so sweetly,
Why was it so fun?
Lord's sky, and the village,
Lamb, let's go, have fun!
The sun was warm, not hot!
That unfortunate sun warmed,
Prayed hard...
Baked, blackened
Heaven is on fire.
Mov prokinuvshis, marveling:
The village has darkened
God the sky is bluer
And those faded.
I looked at the lambs!
Not my lambs!
I turned to hati -
There is no hati in me!
God gave me nothing!..
I shed tears
Heavy tears!.. And the girl
With the most expensive
Not far from me
Flat chose
She felt that I was crying.
Came, welcomed,
wiped away my tears
I kissed…..

Somehow the sun shone
Everything in the world has become
My ... fallow deer, hai, sit down! ..
I mi, hot, let's go
Alien lambs to the water.

Bridnya! .. and dosi, as I guess,
That heart is crying and hurting
Why the Lord did not let live
Small vіku near tіm paradise.
Bi died, shouting in the fields,
Knowing nothing in the world.
Not buv bi in the world of holy fools,
I did not curse people and God!

Do not warm the sun in a foreign land

Do not warm the sun in a foreign land,
And at home it was already hellish.
I'm not happy
And in our glorious Ukraine.
Nobody loving me, vitav,
I chilivsya to no one,
Blukav sobi, praying to God
That fierce panism cursing.
I guessed the summer of dashes,
Pogani, old years,
Toidi raised Christ,
And now it’s not vtik bi syn Mary!
I'm not happy anywhere
That, maybe, it won't be fun
I in Ukraine, good people;
Also, in a foreign country.
I wanted to ... that and that for that,
So that the Muscovites did not rob
Truni from someone else's tree,
Abo want the cry of the earth
Because of the Dnieper my saint
They brought holy winds,
That and more nothing. So, people
I would like to ... That scho guess ...
Nascho already th god to turbo,
If in our opinion it will not be.

Another half of 1847, Orsk fortress

І virіs I'm in a foreign country

I virіs I am in a foreign land,
I sivіyu in a foreign land:
That lonely me
Hurry up - nothing short
Nothing in God, like Dnipro
That our glorious country ...
Already bachu, there is only good,
There are no us. In a bad time
Yakos recently happened
I'm going to go to Ukraine,
Those have the best village...
Have those, de mother wove
Less small and at night
She made money for a candle to God;
Bow to the heavy battles,
She set the most pure, prayed,
Sob loved a good share
Її child ... Good, mom,
Why did you go to bed early,
And then damn God
For my talent.

Already fear is bad
Have a good village.

The Black of the Black Earth
Blukayut people posikhali
Plant green, rot
White huts, rolled around,
Put up the weeds.
The village burned down
Somehow people fooled
They go to the panshchina
And lead your child!..

I, crying, back
I went back to the foreign land.

I'm not in the same village,
A creak in glorious Ukraine
People at the yoke harnessed
Pani sly ... Gone! Gin!
The yokes of the face are blue,
And pani's teachings
Jews, their good brothers,
The rest are selling pants ...

It's nasty, nasty fear!
Disappear in the desert.
And even worse in Ukraine
Marvel, cry - and murmur!

And how do you not bachish that dashing,
That creakingly zdaetsya lubo, quietly,
I'm good in Ukraine.
Between the mountains of the old Dnipro,
Nothing in the milk of a child,

Beautify, admire
All over Ukraine.
And green over it
wide villages,
And in the villages of the merry
I people have fun.
Vono b, maybe it happened so,
Yakby is gone
Following the pansky in Ukraine.

Another half of 1848, Kosaral