Виховний захід на тему: «Shevchenko’s Reading»

Виховний захід на тему:

«Shevchenko’s Reading»

Підготувала:

Викладач англійської мови

ВПУ №19 м. Дрогобича

Партика Надія Володимирівна

2014

Teacher: Dear pupils and teachers, you know that 2014 is declared Taras Shevchenko’s year, because we celebrate 200-anniversary from his birthday. We can’t keep aside from this event, that’s why we are here to take part in Shevchenko’s reading. Our moto is:

“Battle on - and win your battle!

God Himself will aid you;

At your side fight truth and glory,

Right and holy freedom.”

Let’s begin.

Boy: He was a son of a peasant and he became a ruler in the kingdom of spirit. He was a serf and he became a giant in the kingdom of human culture. The best and the most precious reward fortune bestowed on him only after his death – eternal fame and the endless joy in millions of human hearts that is aroused by his works…

(The melody of the song “The Road to Taras” by Rybchynsky and Osadchy)

Girl: All his life he loved Ukraine, he dreamed about Ukraine. We all know his lines:

My poor Ukraine

I love her so

That for her sake

I’d even curse God.

And bring my soul

To ruin.

Boy: Quietly flows the mighty Dnieper. Overlooking the river, not far from the old town of Kaniv, rises the picturesque Chernecha Mount which is now well known as Taras Mount throughout the world. Here lies the great Ukrainian poet, artist, thinker Taras Shevchenko.

Girl: Towering high above the mount, the bronze monument of the poet looks out upon the beautiful vista of hazy river expanses, blue lakes and green fields that stretch right to the horizon.

Boy: Once, fascinated by the unusual charm of this lovely locality, Shevchenko decided to move here and build a cottage of his own design. But this dream was not destined to come true. Shevchenko died in St. Petersburg. Later his friends brought his remains to Kaniv and buried him on Chernecha Mount according to his wish.

Girl: In his creations he wrote about the people he met and those with whom he was on friendly terms, about the world surrounding him, the landscapes he saw, the cities, villages and houses where he lived, about the life of his nation, but the most of all we can see the descriptions of his destiny in his poems.

Boy: We two have never left

Our pathway rough

Have gone straight

Forward, and no man can find

One grain of falsehood

That we’ve left behind…

Let us then still go on,

My destiny,

Most humble,

Unpretentious friend to me;

Let us proceed:

For there the glory lies,

And glory is my –

All – consuming prize.

(The melody of “Thoughts of Mine”)

Girl: All his life he loved Ukraine, he wanted to live in Ukraine, but the great part of his life he was far from his native land – in prisons and deportations. And all this time he thought only about Ukraine – his mother. And we can read:

Boy: It does not touch me, not a whit

If I live in Ukraine or no,

If men recall me, or forget,

Lost as I am, in foreign snow, -

Touches me not the slightest whit.

Captive, to manhood I have grown

In strangers’ homes, and by my own

Unmourned, a weeping captive still,

I’ll die, all that is mine, I will

Bear off; let not a trace remain

In our glorious Ukraine.

Our own land – yet a strangers’ rather.

And speaking with his son, no father

Will recall, nor bit him: Pray,

Pray, son! Of old, for our Ukraine,

They tortured all his life away.

It does not touch me, not a whit,

Whether that son will pray or no…

But it does touch me deep if knave,

Evil rogues lull our Ukraine

Asleep, and only in the flames

Let her, all plundered, wake again…

That touches me with deepest pain.

Girl: Shevchenko was not only a poet he was also a beautiful artist. After Shevchenko’s death, his works of art, manuscripts, documents, personal belongings and library fell into the hands of private collectors who were admirers of his talent.

And the famous pictures of Shevchenko are: “Kateryna”, “Mary”, “The Head of Woman”, some self-portraits.

Boy: Now we know that Shevchenko was also a fine singer. He was a very talented person. And now we have many his poems which are laid on music.

(The melody “Cherry’s Garden” quickly sounds and a girl reads)

Girl: Beside the hut the cherries are in bloom,

And May bugs o’er them dance… the peasants from

The fields return with weary Sep… ‘Tis late…

The young maids as they go sing songs… At home

The tables have been laid, and supper waits.

A family at table sits without…

Dusk slowly comes, the evening stars are out.

The daughter serves, but seems to take too long;

The mother is impatient, and about

To scold, when lo! – A bird bursts into song.

The darkness cloaks the heavens overhead…

Beside the hut her little ones to bed

The mother puts, and then, afraid that they’ll

Not sleep lies down nearby…

The world seems dead;

All’s still save for the maids and nightingale.

Boy: The study of the “Kobzar” evokes the impression of the poet’s extraordinary modesty in assessing his own work and the public service of his muse. He seems to be unsure of his powers and he, hearing the praise of his contemporaries and seeing the signs of their great respect of his talent, did not rest on his laurels or yield to self-complacency. Now here in his verse you will find a single word which would reveal his sense of superiority over others or a certainly that his muse is poetically strong and that he prides himself in the force of his fiery word. On the contrary, an ardent plea escapes his lips:

Girl: Out of my depths I cry

And crying, pray: send help to such as I.

Into my meager soul the power inspire

To speak with tongues of pun-tying fire,

So that the word may blaze with holy arts

To warm men’s souls and melt their stubborn hearts,

To spread across Ukraine a healing tide

And in Ukrainian fields be sacrified…

Boy: It is, for sooth, the tenth long year since I

Presented my own Kobzar to the people,

And now it seems as if their lips were sealed:

For no one even barks or snarls at me –

You might assume I never had existed.

It is not praise from you, my countrymen,

That I expect – I can well do without it –

I long for words of comfort, consolation;

But far more likely into same dark pit

I’ll disappear, after black Moscow’s torment,

That have a letter from the last of you…

And how I long, and how my heart has yearned,

Dear Lord! How ardently my soul desired

To hear from someone, anyone, at least

A word of wisdom so that I might know

For whom I write, and wherefore I should write,

And why it is I love my own Ukraine.

Can she be worthy of my sacred flame?

For, though I’ll soon be old, it seems I still

Am ignorant of what I do, or why.

Girl: But the most well-known his poem is “My Testament” that is translated into 150 languages of the world.

(The melody of “My Testament”) (Додаток 1)

And in English we have:

When I die, let me be buried
In my beloved Ukraine,
My tomb upon a grave-mound high,
Amid the wide-spread plain,
That the fields, the steppe unbounded,
The Dnieper’s plunging shore
My eye could see, my ear could 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 behind and fly
To the abode of God
To sing His praise… 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
Remember also me.

Girl: Shevchenko is a great poet of Ukraine, he is the famous person of his time, and we remember that he was the son of peasant and he became the ruler in the kingdom of human spirit.

(The melody of “My Testament”)

Boy: Beautiful songs resound over the town of Kaniv, glorifying the great Bard and “the great new family, the family of the free” in which all the people of our country have found their happy life.

Girl: People of all races, nationalities, beliefs and political views see the erection of monuments to Shevchenko as a demonstration of deep respect and love for Ukraine's national genius, and as international recognition of his contribution to world culture. According to the former director of the Shevchenko National Museum in Kyiv, there are now over 600 Shevchenko Monuments in the world.

(Додаток 2)

Teacher: We’ve renewed in our memory Taras Shevchenko’s biography and some of his poems. Now I’ll read well-known quotations by Shevchenko in English and you try to find their equivalents in Ukrainian.

І оживе добра слава, Слава України,	Then shall our day of hope arrive, Ukrainian glory shall revive,
Учітесь, читайте, І чужому научайтесь, Й свого не цурайтесь. Бо хто матір забуває, Того Бог карає,	Gain knowledge, brothers! Think and read, And to your neighbours' gifts pay heed, -- Yet do not thus neglect your own: For he who is forgetful shown Of his own mother, graceless elf, Is punished by our God Himself.
В своїй хаті своя й правда, І сила, і воля. Нема на світі України, Немає другого Дніпра, А ви претеся на чужину Шукати доброго добра,	Then in your own house you will see True justice, strength, and liberty! There is no other such Ukraine,  No other Dnieper on the plain; And yet you throng to foreign lands To seek the Highest Good that stands.—
Доборолась Україна До самого краю. Гірше ляха свої діти Її розпинають.	Thus, in her struggle, our Ukraine Reached the last climax of pure pain: Worse than the Poles, or any other,  The children crucify their mother;
If you would train yourselves alone, You'd have some wisdom of your own;	Якби ви вчились так, як треба, То й мудрость би була своя.
Обніміться ж, брати мої. Молю вас, благаю!	Brother, embrace! Your hopes possess, I beg you in all eagerness!
Борітеся – поборете, Вам Бог помагає За вас правда, за вас слава І воля святая!	Battle on – and win your battle! God Himself will aid you; At your side fight truth and glory, Right and holy freedom.
Не вмирає душа наша, Не вмирає воля. І неситий не виоре На дні моря поле. Не скує душі живої І слова живого. Не понесе слави Бога, Великого Бога.	Our soul shall never perish, Freedom knows no dying, And the greedy cannot harvest Fields where seas are lying; Cannot bind the living spirit, Nor the living word, Cannot smirch the sacred glory Of th'almighty Lord.
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 Remember also me.	Поховайте та вставайте, Кайдани порвіте І вражою злою кров’ю Волю окропіте. І мене в сем’ї великій, В сем’ї вольній, новій, Не забудьте пом’янути Незлим тихим словом.
Мені однаково, чи буде Той син молитися, чи ні… Та неоднаково мені, Як Україну злії люде Присплять, лукаві, і в огні Її, окраденую, збудять… Ох, не однаково мені	It does not touch me, not a whit, Whether that son will pray, or no… But it does touch me deep if knaves, Evil rogues lull our Ukraine Asleep, and only in the flames Let her, all plundered, wake again… That touches me with deepest pain.
Свою Україну любіть, Любіть її… Во время люте, В остатню тяжкую минуту За неї Господа моліть.	Love your dear Ukraine, adore her, Love her… in fierce time of evil, In the last dread hour of struggle Fervently beseech God for her.

Teacher: Could we imagine that poems written more than 150 years ago would we actual nowadays. They reflect recent and today’s events in our country. More than 100 people gave their lives for future Ukraine, for our dignity. Let’s honour their memory by a moment of silence.

Our Shevchenko’s Reading is over. Thank you for being with us.

Додаток 1

VERMÄCHTNIS (Німецька)

Wenn ich sterbe, sollt zum Grab ihr
Den Kurgan mir bereiten
In der lieben Ukraine,
Auf der Steppe, der breiten,
Wo man hören kann sein Tosen,
Seine wilden Sänge.
Wenn aus unsrer Ukraine
Zum Meer dann, zum blauen,
Treibt der Feinde Blut, verlaß ich
Die Berge und Auen,
Alles laß ich dann und fliege
Empor selbst zum Herrgott,
Und ich bete… Doch bis dahin
Kenn’ ich keinen Herrgott!
So begrabt mich und erhebt euch!
Die Ketten zerfetzet!
Mit dem Blut der bösen Feinde
Die Freiheit benetzet!
Meiner sollt in der Familie,
In der großen, ihr gedenken,
Und sollt in der freien, neuen
Still ein gutes Wort mir schenken.

LЕ TESTAMENT ( французька мова. Переклад Анрі Абріля)
 Quand je mourrai, enterrez-moi
Au milieu de nos plaines,
Sur un tertre au milieu des steppes
De ma si douce Ukraine,
Pour que je voie les champs immenses,
Les rives escarpées,
Que je puisse entendre le Dniepr
Mugir à mon côté.
Quand le fleuve, loin de l'Ukraine,
Dans la mer bleue profonde
Versera le sang ennemi,
Je quitterai ce monde,
Champs et collines... Volerai
Au royaume de Dieu
Pour prier... Mais en attendant,
Je ne connais pas Dieu.
Enterrez-moi et dressez-vous,
Brisez les fers maudits,
Arrosez votre liberté
Du sang de l'ennemi!
Et que dans la grande famille,
Délivrée de ses chaînes,
Avec des mots doux et paisibles
De moi l'on se souvienne.

Testament (Польська)

Kiedy umrę to na wzgórzu
Wznieście mi mogiłę,
Pośród stepu szerokiego
Ukrainy miłej.
Aby łany rozłożyste
I brzeg Dniepru stromy
Można było widzieć, słyszeć
Jego grzmiące gromy.
Gdzie uniesie z Ukrainy
Do sinego morza
Wrażą krew... dopiero wtedy
I łany, i wzgórza —
Wszystko rzucę i ulecę
Do samego Boga,
Aby modlić się... aż dotąd
Ja nie uznam Boga.
Pochowajcie mnie i wstańcie,
I kajdany rwijcie,
I posoką, wrażą juchą,
Wolność swą obmyjcie.
Mnie zaś w wielkiej już rodzinie,
W kraju wolnym, nowym,
Pamiętajcie wspomnieć czasem
Dobrym, cichym słowem.

ЗАВЕЩАНИЕ (Російська)

Как умру, похороните
На Украйне милой,
Посреди широкой степи
Выройте могилу,
Чтоб лежать мне на кургане,
Над рекой могучей,
Чтобы слышать, как бушует
Старый Днепр под кручей.
И когда с полей Украйны
Кровь врагов постылых
Понесет он... вот тогда я
Встану из могилы —
Подымусь я и достигну
Божьего порога,
Помолюся... А покуда
Я не знаю Бога.
Схороните и вставайте,
Цепи разорвите,
Злою вражескою кровью
Волю окропите.
И меня в семье великой,
В семье вольной, новой,
Не забудьте — помяните
Добрым тихим словом.

IL TESTAMENTO (Італійська)

Se io muoio, mi interrin
Sull’alta collina
Fra la steppa della mia
Bella Ucraina.
Che si vedano i campi,
Il Dniepr con le rive,
Che si oda il muggito
Del fiume stizzito.
Quando porterà il fiume
Al mare azzurro
Il sangue nero, nemico,
Il sangue impuro,
Lascerò allor la tomba
Ed andrò a Dio
Per pregare… Prima di ciò
Non conosco Dio.
Sepoltomi, insorgete,
Le caten rompete,
Che il sangue dei nemici
Spruzzi la libertà.
Nella vostra gran famiglia
Nuova, liberata
Vorrei esser ricordato
Con parola grata.

Додаток 2

New York State, USA

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Curitiba, Brazil

Budapest, Hungary

Warsaw, Poland

Bilyi Bir, Poland

Sofia, Bulgaria

Buharest, Romania

Kyiv, Ukraine

St. Petersburg, Russia

GEORGIA

Minsk, Belorus

Tiraspol, Moldova

Winnipeg, Canada

Ottawa, Canada

Washington, USA