Borys Oliynyk
Borys Oliynyk Poems
She richly sowed cornfields of life
with the years of her living,
Bowed low to the earth,
in the steppe gathered slow swaying grasses,
...
I flew off like a handsome devil
On my steed as black as night -
White foam fell from him like snow-flakes -
Ah!
...
From where the ages sleep
in tombs along the Nile,
From jungles tropical
where blooms the tamarisk -
...
The years now no longer speed by
as wild horses swift run,
Like camels in sands of Morocco they wander at leisure…
More easy to catch sincere lying that here so abounds,
...
I'd have always lain peaceful as ages past by,
Would have turned into dust long ago.
But a witch of a maid on the cliff poses high,
Tightly swathed by the winds that blow.
...
I am in debt,
that I was born Ukrainian:
That fate was in merry mood, when oft she sings,
And has bestowed on me the earth and water,
...
***
All around just as it should be:
evening falls, the distance fades.
...
On jagged rocks they bound him in duress:
The wrath of gods would brook no dispensation -
Because he gave, in throes of righteousness,
To people - Fire - but gave for good intentions.
...
The Best Poem Of Borys Oliynyk
Song About Mother
She richly sowed cornfields of life
with the years of her living,
Bowed low to the earth,
in the steppe gathered slow swaying grasses,
Her children she taught well
to live with their conscience untroubled,
Soft she sighed to herself
and silent set out on her way.
'Mum, where are you going? '
her children cry running behind her.
'Gran, where are you going? '
her grandchildren shout at the gate.
'I'm not going far, dears…
past the sun if I'm only not late there.
Time to go now, my darlings…
May long life and sweet joys you await'.
'What life's left without you?
How can you just go, dearest Mummy? '
'And who then, dear Grandma,
will read fairytales when we're good? '
'I'll leave you the rainbows,
the silver of dew at day's dawning,
The gold of the cornfields,
pale palm, and the bird in the wood'
'We don't want bright rainbows,
we don't want fine silver, gold riches,
If only for ever
you'll welcome us home at the gate.
Oh, dearest, will do
all the work in the house and the meadow,
Oh, stay with us, Mummy,
the sun will not mind if you're late.'
She turned away, smiling,
her face with grave pain cast in shadow,
Waved her hand,
and the cloth on her arm gently trembled.
'May joy shower upon you',
she said, and lives on in fields pensive,
In the silver of dew at day's dawning,
pale palm, and the bird in the wood.
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4/25/2024 5:29:13 AM # 1.0.0.1119
