As the sun sets and hills grow dark,
as the birdsong ends and fields fall silent,
as the people laugh and take their rest,
I watch.
My heart hurries
to the twilight gardens of Ukraine.
And I hurry.
O, how I hurry with my thoughts,
as my heart yearns for rest.
As the fields grow dark,
as the groves grow dark,
as the hills grow dark,
I see a star.
And I weep.
Hey, you star! Have you reached Ukraine?
Do dark eyes scour the blue sky for you?
Or don’t they care?
May they sleep if they don’t.
May they know nothing of my fate.

Taras Shevchenko, 1847