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The parting
Do not cry, Mother, do not grieve,
I got that rebel,
rebel, mother, rebel
so I left you miserable
for the first child to mourn!
But I swear, Mom, curse
This Turkish Black Ouster
in this difficult abroad -
going to wander
dumb, poor, friendless!
I know, Mom, I'm your dear,
you can not die young,
ah, tomorrow it passed
Danube in a quiet white!
But tell me what to do
like me, moms
men with heart, heroic,
with heart, mother, does not last
looking Turkey that raged
over my father's outbreak:
there, where I grew up
first milk and curled,
in where nice liberal
black eyes lift
and with that quiet smile
grief in heart in them,
there, where his father and brothers
Black silhouetted on me ...
Oh, mother - Mother heroic!
Forgive me, forgive and forever!
I already shotgun put on my back
aloud and run
against the infidel enemy.
There I kind of order willingly,
for you, father, brothers,
for it will be captured
but ... show any sword
and honor, mother, heroic!
But when you hear Mother,
that the bullet sing over the village
and young men leap up already,
You go out, Mother - ask them
Where else is your child?
If you say that I
I fell with a bullet pierced,
and then, Mother, do not cry,
not listen to people
where they will say to me
Scallywag out"
but go, mother, home
and tell everything
infant of my brothers,
to remember and they know
that they had a brother,
but their brother fell, died
that is why it did not last wretch
Turks head to induce,
pauper weight watching!
Tell them, Mother, remember
to remember me to look for:
white meat on my rocks
on rocks
I bleed black into the ground
Earth Mother, black!
Hopefully my rifle
rifle, Mother, sword
meet and where villain
with a bullet to greet him,
And a sword pardon ...
If you mother, you
of mercy and that can do,
It when girls are
in front of Mother, a dance
come and my peers
and sadly a liberal comrades,
You go out, Mother, hear
with my brothers infant
my song heroic -
Why and how I died
and what words I said
Before his death, and the band ...
Sadly , mother, watching
That on your merry dance,
and meet eyes
of my sweetheart good
I would sigh deeply
two hearts mile for me -
her, mother, and yours!
And two state tears pipetting
old and young breasts ...
But this state to see brothers
and when, mother, older,
as his brother will be -
strong love and hate ...
If you mother,
I'm alive and reached the village
alive and well with unfurled in hand
under the unfurled personal heroes,
Natty in military clothing,
denominated in gold
with rifles on their shoulders
with swords, snakes on the cross
Oh heroic mother!
Oh dear sweetheart, nice!
Pick flowers in the garden and
tear
knitting wreaths and posies
And then with a wreath and a bunch
You, Mother, come to me,
Come to me, hug mother
ful and forehead kiss -
ful, in a nutshell covenant:
freedom and heroic death!
I will embrace liberal
bloody hand over his shoulder,
listen to this heroic hearts,
how taps heart plays;
him to stop crying with a kiss
tears with his mouth to swallow ...
Besides Then ... Mother, forgive me!
You, sweetheart, do not forget me!
They go, goes,
road is terrible but glorious:
I can not die young ...
But ... I've had this award -
sometimes people say:
died poor for righteousness,
for justice and freedom ...
"The Parting" is a poem by Hristo Botev. It was first published in issue 2 of the Journal of the Bulgarian emigrants Word on June 25, 1871 and later in 1875 issued together with Stefan Stambolov collection of poems "Songs and Poems from Botev and Stambolova."
The work is created when Botev was preparing to cross the Danube detachment of Zhelyu Chieftain in 1868. Probably poet worked a follower on this poem because it was published in 1871 even before the liberation and extraction popularity began to spread a breeze. His copy was found in the personal notebook of Vasil Levski.
Last changes 17-02-2013.
