HAMALIYA
Clarence Augustus Manning translation
During the early part of the seventeenth century, the Zaporozhian Kozaks, especially under the ataman Peter Sahaydachny, made many raids into the Black Sea and there was hardly a single city of importance, even including Constantinople itself, which was not the victim of their attacks. They showed to the full the weakness of the shore defences of the Ottoman Empire and the defects of its navy. In their small boats, hastily constructed below the rapids of the Dniper, they dared to put to sea in the middle of the wildest storms that raged on the Black Sea and their courage and seamanship stood them in good stead against the superior arms and inferior morale of their enemies.
This poem seems to be an independent poetical creation of Shevchenko to bring out this period of Kozak history and to picture the naval exploits of the Zaporozhians. It is in a way a continuation and amplification of the poem Ivan Pidkova but it presents a rounded picture in concise form of one of these expeditions. The name of the leader Hamaliya seems to have been created by the poet, and while the sequence of events described is true to history, the poem is not based on any specific historical event.
Hamaliya
“Oh, there’s no wind and there’s no wave now coming From our own Ukraina. Do they gather and prepare the Turk to battle? We hear not in foreign prison. Oh, blow, Oh blow, O wind, across the waters, From Great Luh bring tidings. Dry our tears and mute our clanging fetters, Scatter all our sorrow! Oh, play on, play on gaily, sparkling blue sea, And beneath the sturdy barges Which the Kozaks sail, scarcely can their caps be seen, And they will come for us. Oh, God, our God! E’en if they fail us, Carry them from Ukraina, We will hear the glory, all the Kozak glory, We will hear and then we’ll perish!” So sang the Kozaks in Skutari’s strong prison, So sang the poor devils and loudly they wept, They pour out their tears and they uttered their sorrow. The Bosphorus trembled, for never before Had it heard laments of Kozaks; with great groaning, It roused itself mightily like a gray bull, And roaring aloud, it sent out to the distance A wave which resounded upon the blue sea. The sea then reechoed the Bosphorus message And bore it to Lyman, and Lyman repeated Unto the Dnipro the sad voice of the wave. Our mighty sire ’gan to laugh Till from his mustache foam ran down. “O brother Luh, don’t sleep but listen! Khortitsa sister?” Both replied, Luh and Khortitsa, “Yes, I hear it.” Dnipro was covered with the barges And thus the Kozaks loudly sang: “Over there the Turk is happy In a well built palace. Hay, Hay! Sea, play on, Roar and break the cliffs. We will go as guests! “There the Turk has in his pockets Talars, yes, and ducats, We won’t rob his pockets, We’ll tear them and burn them, And we’ll free our brothers. “There the Turk has janissaries, A pasha’s their leader. Hay, there, look out foemen, We know not to waver! That’s our strength and glory!” So they sail; they’re gaily singing, Winds hear all the waters; In the van sails Hamaliya, Guiding his boat wisely. Hamaliya, you are anxious— Then the sea is maddened, He heeds not. They soon are hidden By great waves like mountains. All sleep in the harem. As if in high heaven Skutari, Byzantium sleep! There’s a roar Of terror from Bosphorus, groaning and tossing. It seeks to awake the great city from sleep. “Disturb it not, Bosphorus; you will be sorry! I’ll break your white cliffs into powdery sand, And hide them away.” Thus the blue sea was roaring.— “Pretend you don’t know what fine guests I now bring Unto the great Sultan.” When thus the sea threatened, (For it loved the stedfast, the brave tufted Slavs) The Bosphorus feared. So the Turk kept on sleeping And in his rich harem the Sultan dozed on. Alone in Skutari in prison the Kozaks, Poor devils, sleep not. But for what do they wait? They pray to their God in the midst of their fetters, The waves pass along and reecho their song. “O God, dear God of Ukraina, Let us not die in foreign prison, Us, free Kozaks, in fetters bound! ’Twill be a shame both here and there To rise from out a foreign coffin And to Thy righteous judgement come, With our strong hands encased in iron And there in fetters before all Stand out as Kozaks!” “Slash and kill! Destroy the unbeliever foul!” The cry’s outside. What can it be? Hamaliya, your heart’s anxious. Now Skutari’s raging! “Slash and kill”—upon the ramparts Thus shouts Hamaliya. Skutari thunders with its cannon, The foemen roar and rage apace; The Kozaks charge without a waver, The janissaries fall in heaps. Hamaliya’s in Skutari, Through the hell he wanders, He, himself, breaks in the prison, Shatters all the fetters. “Fly, you birds, fly for your fortune To the wide bazaar!” Then the falcons spread their winglets, Long time none had told them Such fine words of Christian speech. Then the night was startled; The old mother had ne’er noticed How the Kozaks paid. Do not fear, but cast your glances On the Kozak banquet. It is dark as on a workday But it is a banquet. The bold boys with Hamaliya Eat not leavings calmly Without meat. “We want good lighting!” To the clouds above them With the many masted schooners All Skutari’s burning. Then Byzantium was startled, Rubbed its sleepy eyelids, And it crossed to bring assistance, With its teeth a-gnashing. Byzantium awakes and rages And gains the bank with eager hands, She reached it, screamed, and started back, Grew mute before the bloody knives. Skutari’s blazing like a hell; Through the bazaar red blood is flowing And turning red the Bosphorus; Like black birds gathered in a grove, The Kozaks fly without a care. No one dares now to interfere, The fire burns not these brave men. They wreck the walls. The Kozaks bear The gold and silver in their caps And load with spoils the heavy boats. Skutari blazes, work abates, The brave boys meet, they gather round And light their pipes from blazing fires. Upon the boats—they lounge around And cleave the mountain-high red waves. They sail forth as from their homeland— Just as if they’re playing, That is like the Zaporozhtsy, And they’re sailing, singing: “Our otaman Hamaliya, He’s a worthy leader, He got boys and then he started O’er the sea to revel— O’er the sea to revel And to gather glory And release from Turkish prison All his captive brothers. Oh, then sailed up Hamaliya Right into Skutari. There he found the Zaporozhtsy Facing bitter sentence. Ho! then cried out Hamaliya, ‘Brothers, we’ll be living, We’ll be living, wine be drinking, Killing janissaries, And we’ll deck our homes in velvet And with costly kilims.’ So the Zaporozhtsy sallied To sow well their meadows, Sowed them well and reaped the harvest, And they sang together: ‘Glory be to Hamaliya, Through the world he’s famous— Through the world he’s famous, Through all Ukraina, For he did not let his comrades Die in foreign prison.’” They sail and sing. Behind them there Courageous Hamaliya’s sailing, Just as an eagle guards its eaglets. The wind blows from the Dardanelles, Byzantium can find no rest, For it still fears that once again Chernets may light up Galata Or the hetman Ivan Pidkova May summon them to give a present. So they sail. Behind the billows Reddens all the sun. And before them the kind waters Murmur on and call. Hamaliya, winds are blowing. Here, O here, the sea is ours. And they hid behind the billows— And the rosy mountains.