IDYL

This poem is considered by one Ukrainian critic and biographer of Franko as "on the whole, one of the finest things in our literature." As it was written the same year that Franko was married, it may perhaps owe its inspiration to the thoughts aroused by that event.

                            IDYL

Long years ago this was. Two children small
Were trudging bravely, hand in hand, along
A path that from their village led across
The lowland meadows, gay with flowers, under
The summer sun.
The elder was a boy

With ruddy cheeks, blond hair, and deep-blue eyes.
A stick he carried in one hand and 'neath
His arm, close bugged, a loaf of bread.
His ragged hat with flowers was adorned.
Yet 'twas the girl that led him on the way,
Though younger far. Her eyes, like thorn-buds black,
Glowed like two red-hot coals and glances swift
Darted at all around. Her plaited hair
Swayed like a mouse's tail. A tiny strand
Of ribbon red was twisted in the plait.
Some cooked potatoes in a kerchief tied
She swung, and underneath her arm she bore
Some sprays of green pea vine with pods thereon
Still hanging.

The boy somewhat unwilling
Seemed, and timid looks cast all about.
The little maid with ne'er a pause talked on,
And strove her comrade's courage to maintain.
"Aren't you ashamed! So big a boy as you,
And yet you want to cry! A boy, afraid!
Why should we be afraid? When I tell you
It's so, it must be true. Our grandmama
Would never tell us anything untrue.
Come see! It cannot be so very far.
Just to that place and then Dil is quite close.
Then up and up Mount Dil until we reach
The very top. And then we'll rest awhile,
And maybe not. Why should we rest at all,
When we're as close as that! We'll shout 'Hurrah!'
And with a rush we'll race right up to where
Those iron pillars are which hold aloft
The sky, and hide ourselves so quietly
Behind them till the evening shadows come.
And don't you dare to grumble, or to sulk,
Or shed a single tear! And then, when evening comes,
And Father Sun comes home to spend the night
And at the big gate knocks—as quietly
As mice, we'll just tiptoe behind him in.
Don't you remember what our grandma said?
He has a daughter, oh, so beautiful,
One never saw the like! She keeps the gate,
And lets her father in and out each day.
And she loves children just like us, more than
The whole wide world. But stern old Father Sun
Will ne'er let any in for fear that she
Might run away with them from him. But we
Will creep in after him as still as mice
And snatch her by the hand and run so fast,
He'll soon be left behind. Don't be afraid,

And don't you dare to cry! It's not so far,
And we are well provided for the way.
I'm sure that when we see her, the princess
Will give us anything we care to ask.
Say, what will you ask for?"

The little chap
Laid finger to his lip, then looked at her
And said: "Maybe a splendid hobby-horse."
"Ha, ha!" the maiden laughed in silvery tones.
"Well then, I'll ask her for a nice new hat."
"All right, you ask for what you like, but I—
I know what I shall ask."

"What is it, tell!"
"Oh no, I shall not tell."

"Tell me, or else
I'll start to cry!"

"All right, cry-baby, cry!
I'll go myself and leave you here alone."
"Why can't you tell me?"

"Stupid, don't you know
What grandmama told us? The sun princess
Has golden apples which she gives away.
And those who from her such a gift receive
Their whole life long shall strong and happy be
And marvelously beautiful besides.
But only girls can get these golden gifts."
"I want one, too!" the boy burst into tears.
"Don't cry, you silly! Ask, and I will try
To manage it somehow to get you one.
And when each one of us has got a gift,
We'll run straight home and never say a word
To anyone. You won't tell?"

"No. I won't."
"Remember, if you do, she'll take it back.
Agreed?"

"Yes," said the boy.

So on they went.
Since that day many years have passed, and far
Beyond all that their childish minds that day
Conceived, the path more and more longdrawn seems
That to the Sun's home leads. The earth, the sky,
The sun, in many an alternating change
The boy has seen. Yet in his comrade dear
No change, no alteration can he trace.
Her same heart-lifting speech and merry song,
Her hopefulness unquenchable, her smile,
Flow as a living stream that in the heart
Links yesterday, tomorrow, with today.
Nor has her goal changed with the passing years,
But only larger grown, more glorious.
Thus on they fare along the great highway
Which humankind still traces, meeting pain
And disillusion harsh, yet in their breasts
They guard their chiefest treasure, childlike hearts.
The fool, with pride inflated, rushes by
And mocks at them. The haughty magnate deigns
Them not a glance. But when some humble soul
Meets them, he slakes their thirst with water cool,
Or points them out some easier path, or else
Beneath his roof bids them to spend the night.
And so, still clasping each the other's hand,
Without a care or fear they onward march
In quiet joy to meet the setting sun.
1886