Taras Shevchenko - great Ukrainian poet

Taras Shevchenko - great Ukrainian poet

Hey friends and readers,

I decided to add a series about Ukrainian culture to my publication!

In this section and series that I’m creating I will be your guide taking you on a journey to learn about Ukrainian poets, writers, philosophers, inventors and also some unique Ukrainian dishes and traditions.

There is no better person to discuss at the start as Taras Shevchenko.

I live in DC and guess what, there is a statue of him here. That is how impactful he was during his time, and if you learn his story you can see that it were hands of God that kept him and his writing safe, despite all the challenges he had to face.

Taras was born on March 9th of 1814, in a village name Moryntsi. Early in his life family moved to a place that is now called after his very name, Shevchenkove. Taras experienced harsh childhood, growing up inna poor family with 5 other siblings, and losing his mother early on, then the father as well when he was still only 11. At 12 he left family and became a servant for a village precentor named Bohorsky. The name treated the boy brutally. Taras managed to escape this man at the age of 13.

Because his whole family were peasants, in 1828, a new landlord, Engelhardt, took Taras with him to live in Poland and made him a kitchen servant boy.

However, one of the nights, young Taras painted a cossack general on the wall and was caught by his owner.  Engelhardt brutally beat him and ordered him whipped for painting a cossack, yet, he recognized that Taras had artistic talent and from that point on Engelhardt had Taras paint him multiple works, including portrayals of his mistresses.

As years went by, Taras’s works caught the eye of famous Bryulov, who eventually, so inspired by Taras ended up raising money to buy his freedom in 1838.

In 1839 Taras began to create what he would truly become famous for. His poetry. His early famous work, Kobzar, sold out immediately, yet it already raised some eyebrows as it had things that were considered undertones of urging for freedom for other Ukrainians. Over the following 5 years Taras’s poetry had incredible impact and reached great popularity, even in Sweden, Norway and Denmark.

It was in 1844 that Russian government lost it with Shevchenko, after his poem “Dream”, spread everywhere. It was a poem about oppression of Ukrainians. The poem was confiscated from anyone who possessed it. Tsar Nicolas 1 himself read this poem and was so enraged that he gave the sentence to Taras himself, imprisoning him.

One of the statements of imprisonment was  “No right to write”.

After 6 years of serfdom near Aral Sea, where Taras was allowed to paint by the naval officer, he was sent to one of the worst prisons of that time in a remote fortress of Novopetrovsk.

He spent long, brutal, 7 years here. Upon becoming very ill and weak, around 1860, Taras was allowed to return to Ukraine, where he shortly died after in 1861.

Incredibly, even today, millions read Shevchenko’s incredible poetry, despite all of the efforts to destroy it and to break him when he was alive.

Shevchenko’s poetry is incredible and I wish you could read it in Ukrainian, but best I can do for you is share some of it here as an English translation below the original.

XXXXX

Zapovit

Як умру, то поховайте
Мене на могилі,
Серед степу широкого,
На Вкраїні милій,
Щоб лани широкополі,
І Дніпро, і кручі
Було видно, було чути,
Як реве ревучий.
Як понесе з України
У синєє море
Кров ворожу... отоді я
І лани, і гори —
Все покину і полину
До самого Бога
Молитися... а до того
Я не знаю Бога.
Поховайте та вставайте,
Кайдани порвіте
І вражою злою кров'ю
Волю окропіте.
І мене в сiм'ї великій,
В сiм'ї вольній, новій,
Не забудьте пом'янути
Незлим тихим словом

XXXXX

When I die, then make my grave
High on an ancient mound,
In my own beloved Ukraine,
In steppeland without bound:
Whence one may see wide-skirted wheatland,
Dnipro's steep-cliffed shore,
There whence one may hear the blustering
River wildly roar.
Till from Ukraine to the blue sea
It bears in a fierce endeavour
The blood of foemen — then I'll leave
Wheatland and hills forever:
Leave all behind, soar up until
Before the throne of God
I'll make my prayer. For till that hour
I shall know naught of God.
Make my grave there — and arise,
Sundering your chains,
Bless your freedom with the blood
Of foemen's evil veins!
Then in that great family,
A family new and free,
Do not forget, with good intent
Speak quietly of me.