Skip to content
Call Us Today! 212-533-4646 | MON-FRI 12PM - 4PM (EST)
DONATE
SUBSCRIBE
Search for:
About Us
Publications
FAQ
Annual Report 2023
Annual Report 2022
Annual Report 2021
Initiatives
Advocate
Educate
Cultivate
Care
News
Newsletters
Sign Up For Our Newsletter
Join UNWLA
Become a Member
Volunteer With Us
Donate to UNWLA
Members Portal
Calendar
Shop to Support Ukraine
Search for:
Print
Print Page
Download
Download Page
Download Right Page
Open
1
2-3
4-5
6-7
8-9
10-11
12-13
14-15
16-17
18-19
20-21
22-23
24-25
26-27
28
22 «ЖІНОЧИЙ СВІТ» NV" Bohdan Lepky THE FLOWER OF HAPPINESS > Translated by M.S. Р. IN WHEN yet a small child, he often heard people talking about “What is happiness ?”—he asked his mother, inquisitively gazing with his eyes into. his mother’s perturbed countenance. “Happiness, my child, is fate,” — repeated his mother, пої know- ing how to define to that small ildish brain the word “fate.” “And what is fate?” “Fate, my child, is a flower, dif- ficult to obtain.” "15 that flower beautiful ?” “Is it beautiful, you ask? Of course it is beautiful, very beauti- ful. When you behold it, your eyes sparkle, your heart rejoices and you gaze, not being able to tear your eyes away from it.” “Mother, I want that beautiful flower. Tell me, i where does it grow? I shall go after it. I shall go after it and bring it for you and myself.” “You do not need it, my dove,” — said the mother, as she kissed the blond head of the boy. “You cannot go after that flower at this time. You are still weak and it is far away, beyond the water. You are well off without it now, and when you grow up and acquire strength, then you can go after “No, I don’t want to wait until I grow up. I want it now. Tell me, where can I find it?” “Tell me” and “tell me” coz the child, and the mother, in order to soothe him, walked up to the window and pointed to the lake. (Their cottage stood on top of the hill, and in the yalley below there was a lake.) “Over there, beyond the lake, do you see?” «І see, mother, I see! There is a whole meadow of them! And how beautiful they are, how beautiful ! Is it far?” ! Do you not see? Over there, beyond the water!” “Beyond the water !” And the small boy fell into a deep meditation, With his large blue eyes he stared earnestly into the far distance, to the point where the horizon melted into the blue waves of the water. It was evening. A narrow bright beam appeared at the end of the horizon and in a moment, as if a sailing boat, glided out the moon, round and silver. Slowly it floated into the sky and it seemed as if it actually moved across the dream- ing water and not acros the even- ing-blue sky. “Mother,” joyfully cried the boy, suddenly aroused from his medita- п. “Do you know what?” “What, my child?” ЧІ know now but I won't tell you. “Why won't you tell me?” “Because | won't tell you. You might become angry with me.” “Oh you, you, my little rascal ! Do you know that you must tell mother everything?” “I know, but thi: you,” — answered the boy as he laid his curly head on the breast of his mother. After a moment he lay іп his small bed. His mother had helped him with his prayers, told him to ask the Lord to endow his father, brothers and sisters with good health, tucked him in and told him to go to sleep, He closed his eyes and pretended to fall asleep, He even snored. But he did not sleep. For as the mother tip-toed away from the bed, he raised his eyelid. It was bright in the room. The moonlight poured in through the windows and illuminated with its bluish rays the walls, the doors, the intings and the furniture. Be- neath the window, in the garden sang a nightingale; far from the lake could be hea І won't tell рі ‘d the sound of splashing water. The tiny waves like the wrinkles on an old face dashed against the dam and the shore. The dam and the shore hurl- ed them as if repelling an as- sailant ; then the water receded for a moment and dashed back with even greater strength. The boy pricked up his ears. “It is splashing... It is calling me... It says that it will carry me across, far away to the meadow where there isso much “happiness.” It blooms. No flower blooms so beautifully. Why don’t people pluck that flower? ‘Aha, because they cannot reach it. They do not know how to swim across the water, But I know! If only mother would fall asleep and morning would come soon, then ГІЇ go, I'll go!” The moon shone ever brighter, the nightingale sang unceasingly and the wayes continued to splash. The boy did not sleep, thinkingonly of the paradise-flower of happiness. Midnight passed. The brief sum- nier night was coming to an end. Morning was not far off. On the horizon appeared a narrow beam, at first pale and indistinct, then looming larger and brighter, The stars and the skies paled. The nightingales silent. A morning breeze stirred faintly and the dew trembled on the flowers. The water in the lake splashed continuously. The boy did not sleep. His breast heaved, his eyes shone and his lips were aflame, He raised his hand, leaned his elbows on the bed and sat up. For a moment he listened. Everyone in the home slept. Even the large, old, black cat who at this time usually loved to stage a hunt, lay near the stove, like a small mound of earth and dozed. The boy arose lightly and went up to the window. He opened the window quietly. The distance from the window to the ground was not great. He climbed became
Page load link
Go to Top
1 
2-3 
4-5 
6-7 
8-9 
10-11 
12-13 
14-15 
16-17 
18-19 
20-21 
22-23 
24-25 
26-27 
28 
