Yea, I rejoice; and the good God I praise,
That He lets not my children fall asleep
In this so far-off land, but says, “Run home,
And tell the others in the dear Ukraine
How bitter ’twas to live in such a world!”
TOPOLIA—THE POPLAR
Shevchenko
The wind blows through the oaks in the wood,
It dances through the fields.
Beside the high road it uproots Topolia,