Lesya Ukrainka "Why, my words, aren’t you cold steel, tempered metal..." (English translation of "Слово, чом ти не твердая криця..." Лесі Українки)
Why, my words, aren’t you cold steel, tempered metal, Striking off sparks in the thick of the battle? Why not a sword so relentless and keen That all our foes’ heads would be cut off clean? You, my true words, I have tested for action, Ready to draw and demand satisfaction; Though, with the drawing, my heart’s blood will flow — And the blade miss the black hearts of the for. I’ll hone an edge on my blade so brilliant! With talent and skill make a weapon resilient. Then on the wall I shall mount it up high, Pleasing to others but making me sigh. My words, you’re all that I have for a weapon. One must live, and not both of us die in oblivion! Others will use you far better, my words — Killing the foe with my glittering sword. It will be my sword to sever all shackles, Through tyrants’ strongholds, its lightning will crackle. And other swords will join in its brave song — Free speech will then to those new times belong. Strong-willed avengers will pick up my sabre And race into