Taking Leave of Kyiv

The Dnipro rolls on far below me, under the winter skies,
River barges moving suspended, detached on the waters,
And the wheeling birds in their winter flight, hovering over the trees,
The trees bowing over the majestic snows of Kyiv.
Around and over the river swarm you thousands,
And tens of thousands, people of the City, buying, selling, returning home,
Moving in countless conveyances on land and water,
The screeching of your wheels and blare of warning horns,
And vehicles above and below the earth, ever moving,
Ever breathing in and out with the passage of people.
I descend with you, I ascend with you,
The endless conveyors of the people, the stream of bundled figures,
I see you, each one, the secrets of your eyes and faces,
The history of your wanderings and toils,














The imprint of the village and farm, the survivors of Tsars and Tyrants,
The imprint of the West, the imitation of foreign trends and traits,
The careless pride in your boots, your bells, your sashes, your furs,
The hopes of young eyes, the memories of the old, the peace and serenity of your spirits.
Close now in my thoughts, you people of Kyiv, wending your way home, over the silvery streets, Walking now in bundled figures,
In companionable and silent throngs beneath the golden domes, the sky-blue walls,
Walking through your City, with the churches of the saints strung like pearls on a silver string,
City of a thousand churches, with all the bells ringing,
The sunlight gleaming from your onioned domes.
City of an ancient fame, City of an ancient name,
Your heroes fixed in bronze, the snow bowing down their shoulders,
The icicles run from elbows and beards.
City of Sorrow, of the prison doors, the starving millions, the fearsome pollutions,
City of death and life, of prison doors closed and then flung wide.
City and nation at the crossroads, at the junction of languages, tongues and people,
Gateway of Europe, highway of Asia, headwaters of the Black Sea and Mediterranean,
The cradle of culture, the prisoner of Empire,
And now, finally now, you City of the past, present and future, your free banners flowing, ,
City of lights, of endless passage, of learning, of love and of hope, I take my leave of you,
City of the Great Gate, long sealed and barred, now swinging wide.

Daniel Bay Gibbons

Kyiv, Ukraine

Friday, November 23, 2007