This File Last Updated: 2006/09/28


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Слуцкія Ткачыхі

      Максім Багдановіч

    Ад родных ніў, ад роднай хаты
    У панскі двор дзеля красы
    Яны, бяздольныя, узяты
    Ткаць залатыя паясы.
    I цятам доўгія часіны,
    Дзявочыя забыўшы сны,
    Свае шырокія тканіны
    На лад персідскі ткуць яны.
    А за сцяной смяецца поле,
    Зіяе неба з-за акна, —
    I думкі мкнуцца мімаволі
    Туды, дзе расцвіла вясна
    Дзе блішча збожжа у яснай далі,
    Сінеюць міла васількі,
    Халодяым срзбрам ззяюць хвалі
    Між гор ліючайся ракі
    Цямнее край зубчаты бора. . .
    I тчэ, забыўшыся, рука,
    Заміж персідскага узора,
    Цвяток радзімы васілька.

The Weaver-Women of Słucak

      by Maksim Bahdanovič

    From native home, from native tillage,
    To the Big House, for beauty's sake,
    Luckless girls taken from their village,
    Girdles of woven gold to make.
    Long hours of labour they endeavour,
    Forgetful of their girlish dreams,
    Toiling at the broad weaving ever.
    Where the Persian pattern gleams.
    Outside the walls is smiling tillage,
    The sky shines fair beyond the pane,
    And thoughts go wandering, willy-nilly,
    There where the spring's in flower again.
    There by the rye, in the far distance,
    The cornflowers gleam with azure still,
    And waves of chilly silver glisten,
    Where rivers gush between the hills;
    Dark frowns the forest's jagged verdure,
    And hands, forgetful at the loom,
    Neglecting the designs of Persia,
    Weave in the native cornflower bloom.


Notes




Return to the Maksim Bahdanovič Web page     Go to the A Belarus Miscellany Topic List           Go to the top of section about Books     Go to the Belarusian Writers Web page

Go to the Belarusian Language Version of this poem on Dz'micier Zinowjew's Belarusian Poetry Web site.

Search the A Belarus Miscellany Web site

Original content and overall form ©1996-2006 by Peter Kasaty : All Rights Reserved. Last Updated:  2006/09/28
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