Really, Bogdanovich is a great Belarusian poet. His poems have been translated into many languages. Today I invite you to get acquainted with one poem by this poet.
The Weaver-Women of Słucak
by Maksim Bahdanovič
From native home, from native tillage,
To the Big House, for beauty's sake,
Luckless girls taken from their village,
Girdles of woven gold to make.
Long hours of labour they endeavour,
Forgetful of their girlish dreams,
Toiling at the broad weaving ever.
Where the Persian pattern gleams.
Outside the walls is smiling tillage,
The sky shines fair beyond the pane,
And thoughts go wandering, willy-nilly,
There where the spring's in flower again.
There by the rye, in the far distance,
The cornflowers gleam with azure still,
And waves of chilly silver glisten,
Where rivers gush between the hills;
Dark frowns the forest's jagged verdure,
And hands, forgetful at the loom,
Neglecting the designs of Persia,
Weave in the native cornflower bloom.
You can try to read the Belarusian version of the poem.))
Ad rodnych niu, ad rodnaj chaty
U panski dvor dziela krasy
Jany, biazdolnyja, uziaty
Tkac' zalatyja pajasy.
I ciaham douhija chasiny,
Dziavochyja zabywsy sny,
Svaje shyrokija tkaniny
Na lad piarsidzki tkuc' jany.
A za s'cianoj s'miajecca pole,
Zijaje nieba z-za akna,-
I dumki mknucca mimavoli
Tudy, dzie ras'c'vila viasna;
Dzie blishcha zbozhzha w jasnaj dali,
Siniejuc' mila vasilki,
Chalodnym srebram z'ziajuc' chvali
Miz hor lijuchajsia raki;
Ciamnieje kraj zubchaty bora...
I tche, zabywshysia, ruka
Zamizh piarsidzkaha vuzora
C'viatok radzimy vasilka.