Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
By Florence Randal Livesay, trans.
From “Old Folk Songs of Ukraina”

I SHALL die, my love, I shall surely die;
Then make for me, my love, a coffin of cedar.
I cannot make thee, sweet one, a coffin of cedar!
Thou must lie, Mila, O my dear, in one made of fir.
Bury me, dear one, in a grave deep in the cherry orchard;        5
Plant by my head a little creeping berry.
And when the one who parts us takes thee by the arm,
As thou walkest through the cherry orchard—
The one who parts us walking with thee—
Thou shalt summon me from my grave:        10
“Oi, arise, my dear, rise up—look around!
See thy cattle wandering through the wide world!”
“Oh, let them go; and if ever they assemble again,
They shall nevermore see the mistress they knew.”
“Oi, arise, my love, arise, look round about!        15
Thy children already are scattered and gone to work.”
“Oh, let them go!—and if ever again they meet,
Their mother indeed and indeed they shall never see.”
“Oi, arise, my love, my Milasenka, arise!
For thee thy youngest child cries, for thee she weeps.”        20
“Oh, let her cry!—she will soon cease.
Whosoever once dies, does not rise from the grave.”
“Oi, arise, my love, my Chornobriva, arise!
Lo, the flower I planted has bloomed at thy head!”
“Oh, let it bloom, let it bloom, let it bloom in full flower!        25
Whosoever once dies—lo, she rests in the grave.”

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