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Poems. In this section published the poems by Ivan Franko – as those that were published as part of poetry collections, and those that are printed separately or were included in the book "Poems" (1899). Therefore, the section opens with preface to this book, in which Franko expresses his understanding of the genre of poem.
English translations of Ivan Franko's works. Collections. Ivan Franko. Poems and Stories. trans by John Weir. Toronto: Ukrainska knyha, 1956. Ivan Franko. Stories. Comp. by Yevhen Kirilyuk. trans. John Weir and Cecilia Dalway, ed. Anatole Bilenko (Translation of individual stories credited to particular translator). Kyiv: Mistetstvo, 1972.
Ivan Yakovych Franko ( Ukrainian: Іван Якович Франко, pronounced [iˈwɑn ˈjɑkowɪtʃ frɐnˈkɔ]; 27 August 1856 – 28 May 1916) [1] was a Ukrainian poet, writer, social and literary critic, journalist, translator, economist, political activist, doctor of philosophy, ethnographer, and the author of the first detective novels and modern poetry in the Uk...
And yet the time will come: Ivan Franko in Memoriam. Ivan Franko (1856-1916), together with Taras Shevchenko and Lesia Ukrainka, is one of the three pillars of classical Ukrainian literature. His extraordinary life and enormous creative output are well described by Marko Robert Stech and Arkadii Zhukovsky in the Internet Encyclopedia of Ukraine ...
He wrote more than 40 long poems, notably Panski zharty (1887; A Landlord’s Jests), Ivan Vyshensky (1900; Ivan Vyshensky), and Moysey (1905; Moses). His collections of verse include Ziv’yale lystya (1896; “Withered Leaves”), Miy izmarahd (1897; “My Emerald”), and Iz dniv zhurby (1900; “From the Days of Sorrow”).
Ivan Franko. Moses. Tr. Vera Rich 4 Electronic Library of Ukrainian Literature For his single ideal, his whole life Was a sacrifice offered, He laboured for it and he shone, Burned for it and suffered. From slavery to Mizraim, he snatched His folk, like a storm, leading The slaves through the marchland and its Narrow gorges, to freedom.
Y frente a la ciudad hay un prado plano y ancho. El corazón y el ojo cautivan la vida de la primavera. Hay un prado: no bosques. No las mariposas, los espíritus de la primavera, No abundante con hierbas y flores, -. No los cisnes que el campo tumbó, No pájaros salvajes como ese. Era densamente ruidoso en el suelo.
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