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🚧The flame everlasting

Пімен Панчанка
Пімен Панчанка на
Ведах беларускіх

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By shaggy-haired stormclouds our Minsk has been smoothered, The shadows of autumn our Svisloch have covered With leaves freshly-fallen.

On the river’s gray surface gold patches go spinning, The branches show through where the gilding is thinning. The roadways are slushy.

Here low, rolling slowly, the mist-vapour thickens, But there on the square by the obelisk flickers The flame everlasting.

As if by a camp-fire were partisans lying, About open wounds mutual bandages tying, Their cartridges counting.

In just such an autumn in war they have striven, Have broken blokades, and their lives they have given In righteous endeavour.

These heroes for ever are frozen in granite

And bronze… Autumn storm hurl no thunder upon it,

Thus flame everlasting.

In this sacred flame fly the sparks of high valour,

And still unextinguished the avenger’s red banner, By still-splinters riddled.

In this sacred flame is the dawn into blood slowly turning, The eyes of the partisan-window in anguish still burning O’er communal graveyards.

In this sacred flame is the blare of yesterday’s siren…

The rain, by this flame its skinny old shin-bones is drying, While shadows go flying.

In mist-shrouded autumn gleam flower-bright tresses Of wreathes, which are full of soft human caresses And deepest of sorrows.

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Collections: Belarusan Lyric poetry