P.S. Andrukhovych's essay about Lviv "The City-Ship" (Місто-корабель) is now available in Swedish as Stadsskeppet.
“One evening in 1885 Franz-Joseph visited again the Castle Hill, the local gentry received him in a coffee house, from a coffee house balcony the king could view the illumination of Lviv in his honour.”
I.Krypiakevych, Historical Wanderings Through Lviv
My king, praise to you—the nation is so happy
you set your foot on our sand this evening.
The clear illumination blows like a celestial shrub,
you have silver spurs. You look from the hill.
Smoke from the flare pistols stings our eyes—we’re deeply moved!
The master of ceremonies’ neck sweats profusely.
We’re ready to die, like a whole nation on the move,
both knackers and local policemen shed tears.
(Our province became like an orchard. The sky’s bottom
was shelled with petards and bombs for more beauty.
Orchestras roared devotedly with trombones and thromboses.
Whores washed negligees and powdered their noses.)
The illumination! The orchestra! We yell and play,
a king’s lot’s like a sphinx, and what’ll it send?—
a plague, a fire, or a war, a dead man in
so rejoice, king, while you’re still a child!
You still have your white horse and your hat with feathers,
your stronghold of power’s like a nut, your boundless empire,
you hang someone secretly, you deceive with papers,
and where’s that twentieth century when you die?…
Translated by Lev Hrytsyuk