A keresés eredménye

Ukraine

There once was Ukraine
In glory and honor,
They heard and knew Ukraine
In both Moscow and in Germany
 
They destroyed the Kozaks
The Moscow walls,
They did not smear the Polish Lords
With salt upon their skin.
 
The Kozaks did remember
And the blue sea they had
Covered with their boats, of oaks,
Forgotting all their troubles.
 
Oh, we went to the Turks as guests,
To the poles for a wedding,
From there, they turned
To the Horde for a hangover.
 
Flourished with lush flowers
The Kozak glory,
The native song the nightingale
In the villages had chattered.
 
They lived a simple life
Yet they praised God,
There was grief, but without grief
Where can one so live?
 
Ukraine had ruled,
And not for very long,
There flew in trouble and sorrow,
There was misfortune.
 
Black clouds had blown in
And the sun they had covered,
It had thundered, lightning flashed,
A blizzard had blown in.
 
The wind picked up from the steppe
There breaking branches ,
It had rained, the droplets
Watering the furrows.
 
It was not the clouds that went upon the sun
Across the blue sky,
It was an army that went into Ukraine
Over the level steppe
 
Oh, from the north, the Muscovites had come
And from the south the Tatars came,
And in the evening, the Polish lords
Noisy had flown in.
 
Guns had thundered all around,
The the sun covered by smoke,
The bullets flying, dear Kozaks
Washing the pathway with blood.
 
The Kozaks had fought well,
There were various situations
Both to the Muscovites and Polish Lords
To all they left their mark
 
Oh, it was not their strength that broke them,
But a wicked word,
The Polish word is sweet,
Moscovite negotiations.
 
They flew into Ukraine
the Poles and Muscovites,
The Jews sat upon the rent,
Taking away the land.
 
Oh, they chained the dear Kozaks
With a saber they then plowed
Upon the Lord, and upon the Jew
Plowing them in the field.
 
They came, took everything,
And the freedom, and destiny,
No longer can we hear the joyous singing,
That poured out into the fields.
 
It is not joyful in Ukraine -
To hear a foreign language,
They moan, cry in captivity
The hungry people.
 
Working for their masters
Day - night without rest,
Ukrainians forgetting
Their acient glory.
 
Forgetting, others will not forget
Some, pretty well
They will tell the children everything
About Ukraine- their mother.