IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE TO ME
It makes no difference to me,
If I shall live or not in Ukraine
Or whether any one shall think
Of me 'mid foreign snow and rain.
It makes no difference to me,
In slavery I grew 'mid strangers,
Unwept by any kin of mine;
In slavery I now will die
And vanish without any sign.
I shall not leave the slightest trace
Upon our glorious Ukraine,
Our land, but not as ours known.
No father will remind his son
Or say to him, "Repeat one prayer,
One prayer for him; for our Ukraine
Тhey tortured him in their foul lair."
It makes no difference to me,
If that son says a prayer or not.
It makes great difference to me
That evil folk lull now to sleep
Our mother Ukraine, and will rouse
Her, when she's plundered, in the flames.
That makes great difference to me.
1847, St Petersburg Translated by Clarence A. Manning
Шевченко T. Г. Кобзар. / Перекл. з укр. Упоряд. А. Грегорович.— Торонто, 2014— 231 с.
