https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ivan_Franko



English Translation - Stonemasons (breakers)

by Uke Dude

https://lyricstranslate.com/en/kamenyari-%D0%BA%D0%B0%D0%BC%D0%B5%D0%BD%D1%8F%D1%80%D1%96-stonemasons.html

I have seen a strange dream. There before me was
An endless, yet empty, and wild field
And I, fettered by a chain of steel, stood there
Beneath a tall granite cliff,
And further there were thousands the same, like me.

For everyone basic life and sorrow was torn asunder,
In everyones eyes, the flame of love burns
In everyones hands are chains, like a snake coiled,
And everyones shoulders are bent down low,
For a single, unknown, terrible burden does bear down on all.

In everyones hands was a heavy steel mallet,
And a voice strong from above, like thunder, rumbles:
"Scale down this cliff! Let not the heat, nor the cold
Dare stop us! Withstand the difficulty, and the thirst, and hunger.
For it is designated for you to break down this rock."

And all of us, in unison, lifted up our hands,
And thousands of mallets struck the stone,
And thousands of sides burst out chunks
And shards of cliffs; by our strength we chipped out
One after another we beat the stone face.

Like a waterfall it roared, like the sound of a feirce battle.
Our mallets pounded this way, one after another;
and little by little we our space attained;
There was not one that was uninjured by those cliffs,
We continued on, nothing did stop us.

And everyone of us knew, that we would not attain glory,
Nor will the people remember this feirce effort,
For it will be then that the people will travel this road
When we will break through it and level it out everywhere,
When our bones here beneath her will decay...

The glory from people we altogether did not see,
For we were neither heroes nor rich men.
No, we were prisoners, though we did take it freely
Upon ourselves this obligation. We've become slaves to our will:
On this path we travel we are but stone masons.

We all believed, that with our own hands
We could break down the cliff, crunble the granite,
That with our own blood, and our own bones
We will build A strong dwelling and after us
Will come a new life, a good newness in the world.

And we knew, that somewhere far in the world,
To which we threw ourselves in labor, sweat and effort,
For us there poured out the tears of mothers, wives, and children,
That friends and not the friendly, wrathful and the angry,
And us and our intention, and our labors they cleave apart.

We new this, And not only once did our soul ache,
And our hearts were torn, and our chests sorrow did crush;
That tears, nor sorrow, nor burning physical pain
Nor curses did tear us away from our purpose,
And no one released the mallet from his hands.

And in this way we go forward, as a congregation united
By this holy thought, with mallets in hand.
We who are cursed, and forgotten by the world!
We break down the cliffs, level out the true roads,
And fortune will come to all by our dear bones.




Ivan Franko - Stonemasons

ChatGPT

I saw a strange dream—
As if before me spread
A boundless, barren, wild and empty plain.
And I, with iron chains upon me, stood,
Bound fast beneath a towering granite cliff.
And far beyond—
Thousands, just like me.

On every brow were etched the scars of life and sorrow,
In every eye, the flame of love still burned.
And round each arm, the chains like serpents wound,
And every back was stooped and burdened low,
Crushed by some grim and monstrous weight we bore.

In every hand, a heavy hammer lay,
And from the heights above, a thunderous voice
Boomed down to us like God’s own dread command:
"Strike at this rock! Let neither heat nor cold
Restrain your hand! Endure both thirst and hunger—
For you are called to shatter this hard stone!"

And all of us, as one, raised high our arms,
And thousands of hammers thundered on the rock.
In splinters flew the shards and fragments wide—
With all the strength of anguish, we struck on,
Again, again, upon the stony face.

Like waterfall’s wild roar, like battle's bloody cry,
So roared our hammers—blow by echoing blow.
And inch by inch, we seized the stubborn ground.
Though many there were crushed beneath the stone,
We marched ahead—
Nothing could make us stop.

And each of us well knew that none would sing our praise,
No memory of men would mark this bloody toil.
Only when the road was hewn by us, made straight,
Would others walk it free—while we lay buried deep,
Our bones decaying underneath the stones.

Yet glory we desired not, nor men’s acclaim—
For heroes, mighty champions we were not.
No—slaves were we, though chains we chose ourselves,
We bound our souls to labor, servants of the will:
On progress’ road, we are but stonemasons.

And all of us believed—our hands alone
Would split the rock, would shatter granite stone;
With blood and with our very bones
We’d pave a solid highway, and behind us
A new life, a brighter good, would come to earth.

And still we knew that far away in that wide world—
The world we left for sweat and chains and toil—
Behind us mothers wept, and wives and children grieved;
While friends and foes alike, in anger and in scorn,
Cursed both ourselves and all our mighty work.

We knew it well, and many times our souls grew faint,
Our hearts were torn, our breasts were crushed with grief.
But neither tears nor sorrow, nor the aching flesh,
Nor curses hurled against us turned us from the task—
No hand released the hammer from its grip.

So on we went, all bound into a single host,
By one great holy thought, with hammers in our hands.
Though cursed, forgotten by the world entire—
We broke the rock, we leveled out the road of truth,
And happiness for all shall rise upon our bones.


Ukrainian original


Я бачив дивний сон.
Немов передо мною
Безмiрна, та пуста, i дика площина
I я, прикований ланцем залiзним, стою
Пiд височенною гранiтною скалою,
А далi тисячi таких самих, як я.

У кожного чоло життя i жаль порили,
I в оцi кожного горить любовi жар,
I руки в кожного ланцi, мов гадь, обвили,
I плечi кожного додолу ся схилили,
Бо давить всiх один страшний якийсь тягар.

У кожного в руках тяжкий залiзний молот,
I голос сильний нам згори, як грiм, гримить:
"Лупайте сю скалу! Нехай нi жар, нi холод
Не спинить вас!
Зносiть i труд, i спрагу, й голод,
Бо вам призначено скалу сесю розбить".

I всi ми, як один, пiдняли вгору руки,
I тисяч молотiв о камiнь загуло,
I в тисячнi боки розприскалися штуки
Та вiдривки скали; ми з силою розпуки
Раз по раз гримали о кам'яне чоло.

Мов водопаду рев, мов битви гук кривавий,
Так нашi молоти гримiли раз у раз;
I п'ядь за п'ядею ми мiсця здобували;
Хоч не одного там калiчили тi скали,
Ми далi йшли, нiщо не спинювало нас.

I кожний з нас те знав, що слави нам не буде,
Нi пам'ятi в людей за сей кривавий труд,
Що аж тодi пiдуть по сiй дорозi люди,
Як ми проб'єм її та вирiвняєм всюди,
Як нашi костi тут пiд нею зогниють.

Та слави людської зовсiм ми не бажали,
Бо не герої ми i не богатирi.
Нi, ми невольники, хоч добровiльно взяли
На себе пута. Ми рабами волi стали:
На шляху поступу ми лиш каменярi.

I всi ми вiрили, що своїми руками
Розiб'ємо скалу, роздробимо гранiт,
Що кров'ю власною i власними кiстками
Твердий змуруємо гостинець i за нами
Прийде нове життя, добро нове у свiт.

I знали ми, що там далеко десь у свiтi,
Який ми кинули для працi, поту й пут,
За нами сльози ллють мами, жiнки i дiти,
Що други й недруги, гнiвнiї та сердитi,
I нас, i намiр наш, i дiло те кленуть.

Ми знали се, i в нас не раз душа болiла,
I серце рвалося, i груди жаль стискав;
Та сльози, анi жаль, нi бiль пекучий тiла,
Анi прокляття нас не вiдтягли вiд дiла,
I молота нiхто iз рук не випускав.

Отак ми всi йдемо, в одну громаду скутi
Святою думкою, а молоти в руках.
Нехай проклятi ми i свiтом позабутi!
Ми ломимо скалу, рiвняєм правдi путi,
I щастя всiх прийде по наших аж кiстках.