TO JACQUES DE BALMONT

So they drove thee along, my dearest friend,

For Ukraina did’st thou shed

That good heart’s blood of thine so red.

Our country’s hangman, shame to think,

Muscovite poison gave thee to drink.

Oh, friend of mine, unforgotten friend,

Ukraine to thee doth welcome send.

Let thy spirit fly with Cossacks bold.

Along the shores of Dnieper old.

O’er ancient tombs hold watch and guard

And weep with us in labors hard.

Till I return to meet thee,

My songs I send to greet thee.

Such songs they are of bitter woe.

Yet ever, always, these I sow.

Thoughts and songs forever sowing,

To the care of winds bestowing.

Gentle winds of Ukraine

Shall bear them like the dew

To that dear land of mine

To greet my friends so true.