Очень нужен англисский вариант стихотворения ТГ Шевченка "Як умру, то поховайте Мене на могилі... "!!

есть несколько вариантов перевода - выбирайте. .

When I die, pray, bury me
In my beloved Ukraine,
My tomb upon a grave mound high
Amid the spreading plain,
So that the fields, the boundless steppes,
The Dnieper's plunging shore
My eyes might see, and my ears hear
The mighty river roar.

When from Ukraine the Dnieper bears
Into the deep blue sea
The blood of foes... then will I leave
These hills and fertile fields —
I'll leave them all and fly away
To the abode of God,
And then I'll pray... But till that day
I nothing know of God.

Oh bury me, then rise ye up
And break your heavy chains
And water with the tyrants' blood
The freedom you have gained.
And in the great new family,
The family of the free,
With softly spoken, kindly word
Pray, men, remember me. (John Weir)

I desire to be buried
Where the Dnipro's running by.
On this land of steppes and cherries
Bury me when I die.

Bury me that I could hear
Mighty river setting free;
Endless fields and hill-sides near,
Splendid scapes I'd like to see.

And when blood will run away
To the depth of water blue,
So then I'll find the way
To God to pray for you.

I will leave the life I led
When the pains be swept by blood,
I will plead with Lord... before that
I don't know any God.

Bury me and then through pains
Get together on my grave,
Free yourself and break the chains
Lest no one of you be slave!

And in future, that you'll gain
Just recall me, don't forget,
Mention me in free Ukraine
With a quiet, kind word. (Anna Revchoun)

When I'm dead then let me slumber
Underneath a mound,
'Mid the rolling steppe, with precious
Ukraine earth around ;
That the mighty girth of acres,
Dnieper's craggy shores,
I may gaze on, and may hearken
How the blusterer roars.
When it bears away from Ukraine
To the azure sea
Foemen's blood, — then I'll depart from
Mountain-side and lea :
These unheeding, I'll be speeding
Even unto God,
There to pray, but till that happen,
I'll know naught of God.
Grant me burial, then uprising,
Shatter every gyve ;
Drench with evil blood of foemen
Freedom that it thrive.
And my name in your great kindred,
Kindred free and new,
Ye shall cherish, lest it perish, —
Speak me fair and true. (Paul Selver)

Dig my grave and raise my barrow
By the Dnieper-side
In Ukraina, my own land,
A fair land and wide.
I will lie and watch the cornfields,
Listen through the years
To the river voices roaring,
Roaring in my ears.
When I hear the call
Of the racing flood,
Loud with hated blood,
I will leave them all,
Fields and hills; and force my way
Right up to the Throne
Where God sits alone;
Clasp His feet and pray...
But till that day
What is God to me?
Bury me, be done with me,
Rise and break your chain,
Water your new liberty
With blood for rain.
Then, in the mighty family
Of all men that are free,
May be sometimes, very softly
You will speak of me? ( E. L. Voynich)

WHEN I die, remember, lay me
Lowly in the silent tomb,
Where the prairie stretches free,
Sweet Ukraine, my cherished home.
There, 'mid meadows' grassy sward.
Dnieper's waters pouring
May be seen and may be heard.
Mighty in their roaring.
When from Ukraine waters bear
Rolling to the sea so far
Foeman's blood, no longer there
Stay I where my ashes are.
Grass and hills I'll leave and fly.
Unto throne of God I'll go,
There in heaven to pray on high,
But, till then, no God I know.
Standing then about my grave,
Make ye haste, your fetters tear!
Sprinkled with the foeman's blood
Then shall rise your freedom fair.
Then shall spring a kinship great.
This a family new and free.
Sometimes in your glorious state.
Gently, kindly, speak of me. (Alexander Jardine Hunter)