Beautiful poems for Kyiv Day about the capital/Collage of Radio MAXIMUM
Kyiv Day, which is celebrated this year on May 26, is a special day for everyone who loves this great city. Kyiv is not only the heart of Ukraine, but also a cultural, historical and spiritual center that fascinates with its unique atmosphere. And it is sung in poems.
Since ancient times, the capital of our country has inspired poets, writers and artists to create masterpieces that convey its beauty, grandeur and soul. Poems about Kyiv are a kind of sung moments that reflect love, pride and respect for this amazing city.
Beautiful poems about Kyiv
In our selection of poems dedicated to Kyiv Day, you will find words that touch the heart and make you feel the depth of feelings for our capital. Enjoy poetic lines celebrating the beauty and greatness of Kyiv on this festive day.
Kyiv/M. Rylskyi
Our Kyiv has spread
On the mountains above the Dnieper,
Gardens have blossomed ,
Like a girl with a wreath.
It was built
Brothers, fathers, grandfathers.
And gloriously protected
From fierce trouble…
***
The Beginnings of Kyiv/O. Oles
Above the Dnieper wide, free,
Where meadows and steppes bloomed,
Our great-grandfathers glades
Settled and lived.
The breadwinner worked in the field,< br> Shepherds grazed cows, sheep,
With a bow, with flexible arrows
A hunter walked through the woods.
Ukraine was blooming lushly,
Full of all good things.
Like in paradise, glades lived
Above the waves of the Dnieper.
They loved everything that was theirs,
They also respected other people's,
Let them say, Perun and Volos
Protect everyone from disaster.
And when the neighbor is lazy
Envious of the rich man's power,
Ours were able to show
a two-edged sword.
And for centuries the foot of the enemy
Did not step on our land.
All neighbors respected
And were afraid of the glades.
.. .Where is our Kyiv now,
There was a mountain itself,
Kyi lived there first with Horiv,
Chek and Swan are their sisters.
Above the Dnieper itself on the mountains,
Fenced on the sides
With a moat, walls, ramparts,
Kyiv grew and blossomed.
On guard near it,
Like a father, stood the Dnieper,
Like a father to a son, he carried it
From the south and the north good.
And it seemed that Ukraine
Will bloom for centuries,
And it seemed that all nations
Will weave wreaths for her.
***
How not to love you, my Kiev/D. Lutsenko
The green sea is playing,
A quiet day above the mountain.
Dear to me
The slopes of the Dnipro have become,
Where the winds sway
Dreams in love…< br> How not to love you,
My Kiev!
Cannas look into my eyes,
I will pour my heart into them.
Let them tell my beloved,
How true I love.
I will dream and to live
On the wings of hope…
How not to love you,
My Kiev!
The tired city sleeps
In a peaceful, gentle sleep.
Gen lights, like a necklace,
Bloomed over the Dnieper.
Velvet evenings,
Like happiness surf…
How not to love you,
My Kiev!
***
Kiev/M. Rylskyi
Beautiful Kyiv on the pre-Kiev mountains!< br>Praise to the long-suffering, praise to you!
May in the open spaces where death, like the night, has passed,
The day of life and the spring of the sightless will rise!
For the tired eyes of terminally ill children,
For the blood that is a hot river flowed,
For defiled treasures, for black all deeds
Let your enemies crumble to dust!
The longed-for punishment has come!
The sword has not been cut, and the candle has not gone out,
His right hand is doing its work judgment is a holy human sorrow!
To the sons who give their lives for their father's house,
That freedom was brought through the impenetrable smoke,
Our Golden Kyiv opens the gates.
***
I grew up in Kyiv Venice/L. Kostenko
I grew up in Kyiv's Venice.
Acacias bloomed under our windows.
And the flood arrived by inertia
and flooded all communications.
Docks and docks swayed.
The kiosks glowed like stalls.
And the flood flooded the willow trees
up to the very sky and up to the very cats.
Oh, how fun we had, how fun!
We lived in attics and terraces.
Everything flapped its wings and oars,
and the goats plucked hay on longboats.
And on the boats, flooded with quarters,
when we returned from school,
the moored gondolas rang with laughter, the sun and guitars
the balconies of the small balconies.
And the moon listened with a golden ear
terrible legends about princes and khans.
And the old fisherman Trukhan swam by.
Trukhan island… Tugorkhan island…
And then the bombs hit the calm.
Charred trapezoids blackened the rafters.
And then the flood washed away the ashes
of my wooden Venice.
***
Kyiv waltz/A. Malyshko
Nightingale nights, spring nights,
I dreamed of Dnieper fates.
Chestnuts are blooming again,
The Dnieper wave is beating.
Sweet youth , – you are my happiness.
Beyond the neo-Zorii, Kiev gardens,–
Unforgettable friend, you will come here.
Chestnuts are blooming again,
The Dnieper wave is hitting.
Youth is sweet, – you My happiness.
Paths and paths have fallen into the distance.
We loved each other as a couple, it's a pity.
Chestnuts are blooming again,
The Dnieper wave is hitting.
Sweet youth, you are my happiness.
We would still meet in the nightingale night.
The warm stars of Kyiv would shine forever.
Chestnuts are blooming again,
The Dnieper wave is hitting.
My youth is sweet, you are my happiness.
***
Kyiv/Yu. Turchyna
Once upon a time, the capital was founded
Kyi, Chek, Horiv and Lybid, their sister.
My, Kyiv, you are an ancient city,
Beauty of embodiment and eternal good.
The Dnieper flows. Once upon a time in its waters
Prince Volodymyr was baptized.
He cared about the fate of his native country,
He taught letters and built temples.
Here is a monument to Bohdan Khmelnytskyi,
This hetman became a hero for the people :
He led the Cossack campaigns,
And he cared about the independence of Ukraine.
Here is the Kiev-Pechersk Lavra,
This is a monument of spirituality, warmth.
Let us all ask that the Mother of God
She protected both us and Ukraine.
During the war, our Kyiv became a hero,
We did not give it to the enemies,
And we are in the museum under the open sky
We will remember those glorious battles.
Children love your hometown:
Here is a circus, a children's theater, a zoo,
A funicular, playgrounds,
Here is a park with carousels and swings.
So I want each of you to see
The beauty of the capital in springtime.
When Khreshchatyk blossoms with chestnuts,
We invite you to Kyiv!
***
Song about Kyiv/A. Malyshko
White chestnuts,
Bright lights,
Wherever I go, –
Dear to me.
Kyiv nights,
Meetings in the garden –
In my heart, wherever I go.
The mountains are high,
The blue of the Dnieper,
Our youth
Forever alive.
Kyiv nights,
Meetings in the garden –
In my heart, where I will not go
We fell in love
Where there are oaks,
In the Kyiv sky
Two pigeons
Circling, raising
Their little wings,
As if we are a couple, in a family.
So it will be,< br> That's how it is. …
White chestnuts,
My happiness.
My native capital –
You are my spring,
Light, beautiful, clear.
Kyiv nights,
Meetings in the garden –
In my heart, wherever I go.
* **
Millennium Kyiv/V. Stus
Millennium Kyiv
wanted to rejuvenate.
Suddenly Kyiv felt hotels,
electric trains, trolleybuses, trains,
the Paton bridge
and the clumsy houses of Khreschatyk.
The rough asphalt
Kyiv licked
with its pagan tongue —
and the slopes of the Green Theater
began to sprout martens,
squirrels, bu-tours,
laughed, dispersing the waves of the Dnieper,
the heathen head of Yarilova.
Kyiv coughed asthmaically.
In the drafts of the subway
electric trains rattled in fright,
because several layers of soil,
white as human bones,
horse skulls,
gray ashes of ritual thefts,
swelled up like wool
on the neck of an angry bull.
Kyiv tensed and fell silent:
where in the devil's mother
did he raise this runaway
br> of new buildings, avenues, highways
and high bellies
your unregenerate countrymen?
And the power of God would beat you,
cursed the pagan Kiev.
But he saw a flock of pioneers
and, ashamed, bowed his head.
He hid – and Nichichirk.
***
Kyiv/M. Vingranovsky
On the silver bank of the Dnieper
The golden capital of Slavs,
The dawn of language and kindness,
A window to the stooke and capital world,
All a hundred centuries in trouble and pity
Under the sky of the threatened day
You guide our brave ships with our heart
With sails on the mast of Ukraine.
The spiritual miro of the Dnipro nation,
A tall warrior with calloused hands,
That death is old, untrue and old,
That silently ate us for ages, –
Cursed, cursed, perished – don't care!
We are no longer crooked, no clowns, no laziness.
And a free spirit, and unions of free thoughts
Today our coat of arms has been impaled.