User:Ok.oksana

Poetry of Vasyl Stus

How good,that I don't fear death, That I don't ask how heavy is my cross, That i don't bow in face of judges in waiting of unknown versts! That i have lived, have loved and haven't learnt    abhorrence for a bit, not being filled with execration and regret. My nation, i'll come back when from the dead i'll ressurect to life with sufferings and forgivness on my face... Your faithful son will always worship you. With honesty i'll gaze into your honest eyes and in my death i'll be next kin to native land

.my soul, inflame yourself with burning,not with cry,when sun of my ukraine is cold and white.But you must look for red shadow of a viburnum,On black water you must look for it.As there were few of us, only a handful for praying and for expectation, a premature death is our destination,because a blood of the viburnum is so bitter hard as blood in our veins A hoary blizzard of jeremiad ,this bunch of pain that to tumble in depth ,fell upon us in everlasting trouble