The Night Of Taras

By the road the Kobzar sat And on his kobza played. Around him youths and maidens Like poppy flowers arrayed.

So the Kobzar played and sang Of many an old old story; Of wars with Russian, Pole and Tartar And the ancient Cossack glory.

He sang of the wars of Taras brave, Of battle fought in the morning early, Of the fallen Cossack’s grass-grown grave Till smiles and tears did mingle fairly.

“Once on a time the Hetmans ruled, It comes not back again; In olden days we masters were This never comes again. These glories of old Cossack lore Shall be forgotten nevermore.

Ukraine, Ukraine! Mother mine. Mother mine! When I remember thee How mournful should I be.

What has come of our Cossacks bold With coats of velvet red? What of freedom by fate foretold, And banners the Hetmans led?

Whither is it gone? In flames it went: O’er hills and tombs, The floods were sent. The hills are wrapt in silence grim, On boundless sea waves ever play; The tombs gleam forth with sadness dim; O’er all the land the foe holds sway.

Play on, oh sea, Hills silent be: Dance, mighty wind, O’er all the land. Weep, Cossack youth, Your fate withstand.

Now who shall our adviser be? Then out spake Naleweiko, A Cossack bold was he, After him Paulioha Like falcon swift did flee.

Out spake Taras Traselo With bitter words and true, “That they trampled on Ukraina For sure the Poles shall rue.” Out spake Taras Traselo, Out spake the eagle grey. Rescue for the faith he wrought, Well indeed the Poles he taught. “Let’s make an end of our woe. An end come now to your woe, Arise, my gentle comrades, all Upon the Poles with blows we’ll fall.”

Three days of war did the land deliver. From the Delta’s shore to Trubail’s river. The fields are covered with dead, in course, But weary now is the Cossack force.

Now the dirty Polish ruler Was feeling very jolly, Gathered all his lords together, For a time of feast and folly. Taras did his Cossacks gather To have a little talk together.

“Captains and comrades, My children and brothers, What are we now to do? Our hated foes are feasting, I want advice from you.”

“Let them feast away, It’s fine for their health.

When the sun descends, Old night her counsel lends; The Cossacks’ll catch them, and all of their wealth.”

The sun reclined beyond the hill The stars shone out in silence still, Around the Poles the Cossack host Was gathering like a cloud; So soon the moon stood in the sky When roared the cannon loud.

Woke up the Polish lordlings, To run they found no place. Woke up the Polish lordlings, The foe they could not face. The sun beheld the Polish lordlings, In heaps all o’er the place. With red serpent on the water, River Alta brings the word— That black vultures after slaughter May feast on many a Polish lord.

And now the vultures hasten The mighty dead to waken. Together the Cossacks gather Praise to God to offer.

While black vultures scream, O’er the corpses fight. Then the Cossacks sing A hymn to the night; That night of famous story Full of blood and glory. That night that put the Poles to sleep The while on them their foes did creep.

Beyond the stream in open field A burial mound gleams darkly: Where the Cossack blood was shed There grows the grass full greenly.

On the tomb a raven sits: With hunger sore he’s screaming. Waiting near a Cossack weeps: Of days of old he’s dreaming.”

The Kobzar ceased in sadness His hands would no longer play: Around him youths and maidens Were wiping the tears away. By the path the Kobzar makes his way, To get rid of his grief he starts to play. And now the youngsters are dancing gay, And then he opes his lips to say:

“Skip off, my children, To some nice warm corner, Of griefs enough; I’ll no longer be mourner.

To the bar I’ll go and find my good wife And there we’ll have the time of our life. For so we’ll drink away our woes And make no end of fun of our foes.”