It Makes No Difference To Me
by Taras Shevchenko
by Taras Shevchenko
It makes no difference to me,
If I shall live or not in Ukraine
Or whether any one shall think
Of me 'mid foreign snow and rain.
It makes no difference to me.
In slavery I grew 'mid strangers,
Unwept by any kin of mine;
In slavery I now will die
And vanish without any sign.
I shall not leave the slightest trace
Upon our glorious Ukraine,
Our land, but not as ours known.
No father will remind his son
Or say to him, "Repeat one prayer,
One prayer for him; for our Ukraine
They tortured him in their foul lair."
It makes no difference to me,
If that son says a prayer or not.
It makes great difference to me
That evil folk and wicked men
Attack our Ukraine, once so free,
And rob and plunder it at will.
That makes great difference to me.
If that son says a prayer or not.
It makes great difference to me
That evil folk and wicked men
Attack our Ukraine, once so free,
And rob and plunder it at will.
That makes great difference to me.
I really should have known that once I started questioning new ideas that the questions would turn around to me. This male dominated world doesn't take lightly to women who express themselves, who question the ways of those in control. It was this poem, "It Makes No Difference to Me" that slipped from my case at the Blue Scepter House, and found by one of those dreaded men that don't accept educated women. The paper and margins were covered in my notes, dissecting the poem. From another's eyes, these notes may appear to be facts, and it was my mistake that I stamped this poem with my ink.
Last eve, our Butler rushed into our sitting room looking anxious.
"M'am, the Interpol is at the door, and they state that it is most urgent that they see you." My mother stood up, keeping that naturally composed von Dietrich face, and nodded to the butler to let the officials in.
I'd never seen a pack of wolves with my own eyes, only photographs, but when the five, crisply uniformed officials stormed in, their eyes filled with red suspicion, I felt something was immediately wrong.
"Ms. von Dietrich, I am Commander Pavlo Yanukovych with the Ukrainian Interpol," stated the man with the most silver badges on his chest. He reached out his hand suavely to take my mother's in greeting, but she remained calmly ramrod straight. It was obvious that my mother could sense the negative electricity in the air with their approach. The Commander, recognizing that he wasn't to receive the lady's hand, awkwardly revoked his own and placed it behind his back.
"Commander, what is this hullabaloo?," she immediately retorted, squinting at each official in turn.
"M'am, the most grievous of information has come to our attention about your daughter, Amarisa. Is this she?" He pointed his nose toward me, as I sat poised and blank-faced behind my mother. I could tell he was attempting to be most cordial since he was in the home of a powerful politician.
Ignoring answering his question directly, my mother stated, "What you have to say, you can say in present company. Now please, explain what I may do for you."
The Commander pulls out a wrinkled piece of paper, and in the candlelight I can see my elegant script. He hands the paper to my mother, who sets her glasses upon her nose and examines it. The room is awkwardly quiet a moment until my mother looks up at the Commander and asks, "What of this? This is my daughter's writing, but it appears to be an assignment for University. What pray tell would instigate a menagerie of police officials to come storming in my house?"
The Commander glanced over at me, then respectfully replied, "M'am, our sources state that there are many more documents like this, perfidious to Ukraine and the Russian motherland."
My mother seemed to grow two meters at that statements and bellowed, "Are you implying that my daughter is a treasonist?"
The silence from the pack of wolves was answer enough. My heart dropped, recognizing that my extracurricular studies provoked all this. My mother took a confident step toward the pack and sternly continued, "Thank you for your time, Commander. I will communicate this with my husband and will contact you shortly."
After the men left, my mother took several minutes to look me in the eye before storming out of my sight.
The worst part is not knowing what was going to happen...
Last eve, our Butler rushed into our sitting room looking anxious.
"M'am, the Interpol is at the door, and they state that it is most urgent that they see you." My mother stood up, keeping that naturally composed von Dietrich face, and nodded to the butler to let the officials in.
I'd never seen a pack of wolves with my own eyes, only photographs, but when the five, crisply uniformed officials stormed in, their eyes filled with red suspicion, I felt something was immediately wrong.
"Ms. von Dietrich, I am Commander Pavlo Yanukovych with the Ukrainian Interpol," stated the man with the most silver badges on his chest. He reached out his hand suavely to take my mother's in greeting, but she remained calmly ramrod straight. It was obvious that my mother could sense the negative electricity in the air with their approach. The Commander, recognizing that he wasn't to receive the lady's hand, awkwardly revoked his own and placed it behind his back.
"Commander, what is this hullabaloo?," she immediately retorted, squinting at each official in turn.
"M'am, the most grievous of information has come to our attention about your daughter, Amarisa. Is this she?" He pointed his nose toward me, as I sat poised and blank-faced behind my mother. I could tell he was attempting to be most cordial since he was in the home of a powerful politician.
Ignoring answering his question directly, my mother stated, "What you have to say, you can say in present company. Now please, explain what I may do for you."
The Commander pulls out a wrinkled piece of paper, and in the candlelight I can see my elegant script. He hands the paper to my mother, who sets her glasses upon her nose and examines it. The room is awkwardly quiet a moment until my mother looks up at the Commander and asks, "What of this? This is my daughter's writing, but it appears to be an assignment for University. What pray tell would instigate a menagerie of police officials to come storming in my house?"
The Commander glanced over at me, then respectfully replied, "M'am, our sources state that there are many more documents like this, perfidious to Ukraine and the Russian motherland."
My mother seemed to grow two meters at that statements and bellowed, "Are you implying that my daughter is a treasonist?"
The silence from the pack of wolves was answer enough. My heart dropped, recognizing that my extracurricular studies provoked all this. My mother took a confident step toward the pack and sternly continued, "Thank you for your time, Commander. I will communicate this with my husband and will contact you shortly."
After the men left, my mother took several minutes to look me in the eye before storming out of my sight.
The worst part is not knowing what was going to happen...
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