Best Poem of Yanka Kupala

Young Belarus
The free wind has sung free songs to thy name,
Green woods caught them with friendly voices, The sun called with its flame to a seed-time far-famed,
The stars poured faith into broken forces.

And in time of storms, troubles and mighty desires,
Thou hast budded and bloomed, long-awaited, In a life-freshet, over the . . .
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From Forebears' Ages, Long Since Gone,
From forebears' ages, long since gone,
A heritage has come to me,
Among strange folk, among my own,
Me it caresses, motherly.

Of it to me dream-fables sing
Of first thaw-patches, vernally,
The woods' September murmuring,
An oak-tree lone, half burned away.

Memories of it, like storks . . .
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