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LESYA UKRAINKA EPILOGUE (from Lesya U krainka. Selected W orks. Translated by Vera Rich. University of Toronto Press, 1968) He who dwelt not among tempests Cannot strength’s true valour savor Cannot realize how sweet to Man are struggle, toil and labour. He who dwelt not among tempests Cannot know the grief of weakness, Cannot realize the torments. Of compelled inaction’s meekness. How I envy them who know not Any resting or reposing Till exhaustion past man’s bearing For a moment overthrows them. Day and night they watch as sentries, Long the toil, short respite coming, Day and night they are at labour Until hands and spines ache numbly. Then it seem s to them that surely No worse torment com es to people... Fighters, if you could but know it, What it is when hands are feeble What it is to lie, unmoving, Like one shipwrecked by fate’s dangers, To surrender to the mercy And the strength and will of strangers; What remains for such a creature? But to think, to muse, to ponder... Then accept these thoughts, you fighters, Nothing more have I to offer. ’’ethnographers” continued to collect songs and embroi deries, while their children were divided into Social Democrats and Socialist Revolutionaries, moderates and radicals, independents and federalists. And they argued and argued! Olha Petrivna wrote in her autobiography: “The socialist influence emerged and proceeded on its own path independent of us, the older generation.” Further on she wrote: “I saw... these active young people that took our place in the community, I saw that without me the Ukrainian life will follow its own course.” Olha Petrivna belonged to her older generation. She rarely argued with younger people, but quietly stepped aside, continuing her painstaking work in eth nography and writing. Even the young people who behind her back considered Olha Petrivna a has been, always delighted in her pure and rich language. The young always argued. During the Russian- Japanese war the ’’defeated” and the “patriots” raised such a ruckus in the green hued living room of the Green Grove that some simple soul walking by thought that the Kosach family was dividing its inheritance. But enough discussion! Lets take to the boats! The joyous company headed for the placid waters of the Psol River. The older generation led by Olha Petrivna made its way to the river by a sensible path, while the younger took the “mountain goat” way which sped sharply downward. They stayed on the boats till late at night. Back home again, it was the piano and songs! Again there was Chopin, Beethoven, and old waltzes! Olha Petrivna was always in the midst of company which never interfered with her work. The young people would play, have fun, sing, while she sat in the living room at a table covered with books and papers. She did not need solitude for work, she needed life. (E n g lis h tra n s la tio n b y M a rta B a c zy n s k y ) “НАШЕ ЖИТТЯ”, ГРУДЕНЬ 1991 23
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