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there, the president and his supporters made their way to the Maidan, where he was presented by a contingent of Kozaks with the ancient symbol of the Ukrainian hetman's authority—the Bulava (mace). As the new president walked around the Maidan, he paused to speak to some of the thousands who had gathered there for the occasion. I was standing with Atena Pashko at the time, and the president approached us and thanked us for being there. The small, human gesture from a man who had overcome great obstacles to assume the man tle of leadership as Ukraine's president will remain an indelible memory of my journey. On Monday, after the inauguration, the president and his family went to pray at the Cathedral of Saint Sofia where he was greeted by Greek Catholic Patriarch Lubomyr, Kyivan Patriarch Filaret, and priests from various churches of different religious denominations. The Patriarchs gave their blessing for his long journey as President of Ukraine. Shortly after, I had the pleasure of meeting Yulia Tymoshenko, the president’s nominee for Prime Minister, and Ukraine's First Lady, Kateryna Yushchenko. In my official capacity as UNWLA president, I presented President Yushchenko with an official congratulatory message from the UNWLA. I also presented the First Lady with an invitation from the International Council of Women to attend a UN session of the Commission on the Status of Women, which will take place in March 2005. In 1880, Ivan Franko wrote a poem that became an inspiration for a generation of young Ukrainians deter mined to work for change in a country that had too long been under the domination offoreign powers, all de termined to prevent Ukraine from achieving political independence and social justice. Entitled "Hymn," the poem became a rallying cry for dissent and for a renaissance in pride in Ukrainian national identity. Today, in the wake of recent events in Ukraine, Franko's words resonate with timeless truth and prophetic power. (Translation by Percival Cundy). H y m n The eternal spirit of revolt, The spirit which moves men to fight For progress, liberty and right, Still lives, nor has it shot its bolt. The Inquisition's rack and boot, The mercenaries trained to shoot, The tyrant's guns and cannon balls, The tsarist bans and prison walls, The traitor and the spy—all they Have failed to take its life away. It is not dead—this very hour 'Tis more alive. Though it saw light A thousand years since, yet in might It onward moves by its own power. In growing strength, without delay It hastens where it sees the day. It sounds a trumpet to awake Mankind to follow in its wake, And millions gladly join its train When'er they hear that thrilling strain. That spirit's voice is heard today In huts of those who till the soil, In factories where workers toil, Where tears and misery hold sway. And everywhere that voice resounds, Men's tears are dried, their heart rebounds, Misfortunes fade, new strength is bom To fight again. No more they mourn, But strive to win a better fate For children's sake, ere it's too late. This living spirit of revolt, Of progress, liberty and right, Shall not retreat before the night, Shall nevermore be brought to halt. In ruins, evil round us lies, The avalanche's rush now dies— In all the world there is no force That can avail to stay its course, That can put out the vital spark We now see glimmering in the dark. “НАШЕ ЖИТТЯ”, ЛЮТИЙ 2005 15
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