How a Grim 1700s Ukrainian War Farewell Wound Up as a Merry Children’s Holiday Recital Number
Songs: “A Cossack Rode Beyond the Danube/Yikhav Kozak za Dunai” by Semyon Klymovsky, “Schöne Minka” by Ludwig van Beethoven, “Minka” by Carol Rose Duane, “Minka” arr. by Jill Ann Jones
In early 2022, Russia launched a major military offensive into Ukraine under the laughably imaginary pretense of attempting to “demilitarize and denazify” the country, an excuse about as convincing as “the dog ate my homework.” In the face of overwhelming odds, the people of Ukraine have rallied courageously to defend their homeland- forming citizen militias, adopting a NATO combined arms strategy, and incorporating newer Western-style weapons with older Soviet-era machinery. The fact they’ve held on this long is absolutely jaw-dropping when you consider that Russia has three times the population, ten times the Gross Domestic Product (GDP), and almost thirty times the landmass.
When the war began, 80% of Americans voted in favor of sending foreign to the Ukraine- a number that has since dropped to 58%. There are a few different reasons, such as vehement Republican opposition; a shaky domestic economy; and a voting base wary of interfering in overseas conflicts. Just as damning, the average Joe Six-Pack couldn’t tell you why we should help the Ukraine, or where exactly this place was, or even what this country was famous for. I’m not pointing fingers- before 2022 I didn’t know anything about the food, history, or economy, and my own grandma was born in Kiev. But it’s a lot easier to drum up support for a cause when your citizenry is familiar with that nation’s culture. If polled, I’m sure 99.9% of Americans would claim they’d never heard a traditional patriotic Ukrainian folk song in their lives.
But what if I told you that. . . you probably already had?
The Original Composition- 1700s
For an article promising familiarity, the first 30 seconds of this clip- with its home-video sound quality, quaint embroidered dress robes, and Cyrillic-letter scrolling introductions- might feel foreign until the soloist unleashes his majestic baritone and it hits you- you know this song! This is an American winter holiday staple. Maybe you learned it as “Minka,” or just recognize the melody from ice skating rinks or mall loudspeakers at Christmas. But I’ll guarantee you didn’t learn it under its original title: “A Cossack Rode Beyond the Danube,” by 18th-century Ukrainian poet, soldier, and philosopher Semyon Klymovsky (sometimes spelled “Semen Klimovski,” but let’s give the poor guy a little dignity, eh?)
Back in Klymovsky’s time, large parts of the country existed as a semi-autonomous Cossack state under Russian influence. While the Cossacks get stereotyped as a band of unruly, smelly horsemen, they were actually some of the era’s finest fighters and a serious political and military force. On a vast, lonely steppe sandwiched between the competing clutches of Russia, Turkey, Poland, and Crimea, the Ukrainians fiercely maintained an independent army, government, and educational system.
The exact details of Semyon Klymovsky’s life are maddeningly hard to pin down- clouded by three centuries of shoddy record-keeping, political upheaval, and a language barrier involving an entirely different alphabet. The most detailed and consistent sources seem to be from (surprise!) the Ukraine itself, so we’ll stick with those. Klymovsky was likely born between 1690–1700, location unknown, and later joined the Kharkiv Cossack regiment. The only definitive date in his murky chronology is 1724, when he sent two signed letters to Russia’s Peter the Great. Following a long, distinguished military and intellectual career, the grizzled veteran retired to the country and died of old age sometime before the year 1800.
So when did Klymovsky compose his nation’s most famous song? Probably during the period of 1710–1730. It was popular in the Ukraine by the 1750s. The lyrics describe a soldier leaving his beloved:
The Cossack rode over the Danube/ He said, “Farewell, my sweetheart
You, my black horse/ Lead on and march!”
“Wait, wait, my Cossack/ Your girl is crying,
‘How can you leave me. . .’
To which the young man responds to his distraught sweetheart,
“Coming from war in glory/ I shall meet you again. . .
If I won’t die, I will return/ In three years’ time!”
You’d be hard pressed to find a culture that doesn’t have some type of farewell lament between a lovestruck couple cruelly parted by conflict, but Klymovsky is operating on a few different levels here. Physically, the Danube River separated Ukraine from their bitter enemies, the Ottoman Turks; metaphorically, it symbolized a mystical divide between the physical present and the afterlife. To “cross the Danube” meant to face death or die in battle. While not all Cossacks were mounted, Klymovsky depicted his brave warrior on a steed representing national ideals of freedom, loyalty, and chivalry. The number three is also significant- it hearkens back to a trident sigil introduced by the 10th-century Kievan Rus. Not only did this composer know how to work an audience in his home country, but the song soon reached international popularity when. . .
Romantic Variations- 1800s
. . . Beethoven picked it up.
Which was the modern-day equivalent of having Avicii remix the title track of your small-town college band’s self-recorded demo for 150,000 screaming partygoers in Ibiza. Already one of the most influential composers in Europe, Ludwig enjoyed this melody so much that he arranged it twice- once in 1816 and again three years later. To complete its transition from the dusty, blood-spattered Slavic battlefield into the elegant nineteenth-century parlor, “A Cossack Rode Beyond the Danube” received new lyrics in German (from the poet Christoph Tiedge) and a new title (“Schöne Minka). The song still portrayed a soldier’s farewell to his lover, but noticeably absent were the references to animal and numerical symbolism as well as a mythical river of souls. Instead, “Minka” adopted a wistful, earnest tone frilled in lace flourishes:
Lovely Minka, I must part, oh you feel not the pains,
far upon a joyless moor, far to be from you. . .
Minka’s response is a little more realistic- she understands that she’ll miss him deeply, but he might be different when he returns.
Oh to the nights and the days I will complain my grief;
I will ask all winds, whether they have seen you. . .
Whether also all fresh colors of your youth blossom died:
yes, with wounds and with scars you are, sweet mine!
It’s worth noting that “A Cossack Rode Beyond the Danube” was incredibly popular in the 19th century, with several of Beethoven’s lesser-known contemporaries adding their own variations to the canon. This gradually evolved into the tune most Americans know today. . .
1900s- English-Language Lullaby
. . . providing they’ve reached the age where they need anti-aging cream and a colonoscopy appointment.
One of the frustrating things about tracking down old versions of songs is searching for hours and coming up empty. I have absolutely no idea who translated this song into English, or when, but its stark, poetic simplicity evokes the still of a snow-dappled grove, the fleeting glimpse of an elusive silhouette among the dark pines.
From the Volga I was riding
On my great horse nobly striding
When I saw a shadow hiding
Minka, charming Minka.Minka, Minka, I have spied thee
Do not in the forest hide thee
On my great horse I will ride thee
Minka, charming Minka.
With one glaring exception: the Volga isn’t in the Ukraine. Oops. Shouldn’t have been eating glue on second-grade Geography Day! (Although mad props to the translator for keeping the horse in there.) And while the central narrative of a wartime goodbye has been substituted for the pursuit of a demure woodland maiden, it works. Unlike. . .
2000s- English-Language Children’s Holiday Recital Number
. . . this 1993 youth choir arrangement by Jill Ann Jones, who lists it as a “Russian folk song.” It’s been completely stripped of any historic or cultural significance; character interaction; romantic emotions; imagery; or point.
The lyrics run as such:
Merry bells go ting-a-lingle
Toes and fingers freeze and tingle
With our friends we love to mingle
While the snowflakes fall.
I’m not sure who Ms. Jones is (although I’m sure President Zelenskyy would like to have a firm word with her.) But while I enjoy her version the least out of all four, I strongly believe that if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say it at all. So I’ll let someone else speak. Here’s the most-liked comment for this YouTube video.
If you enjoyed reading about the origin and evolution (or deviation) of this classic Ukrainian folk song, you’ll be interested to see that this article. . .
2024- Conclusion
. . . comes around full circle.
Ukrainian forces are currently facing a tough battle in Kharkiv- the same region where Semyon Klymovsky first joined his local Cossack regiment 300 years ago. His signature song isn’t a pompous parade march or a glorification of fallen brethren; it’s a very real, tragic, anguished acknowledgement that a young soldier may not return home to his love. It’s something his country’s resistance fighters deal with every day when they leave their loved ones for yet another grueling counteroffensive, street by street, past vacant cinderblock apartments scorched by smoke and pockmarked with shrapnel. But if we’ve learned one thing from “The Cossack Rode Beyond the Danube,” it’s not to underestimate the people of the Ukraine.
For more music by the excellent Ukrainian Bandurist Chorus: https://www.bandura.org/
To donate directly to the Ukraine through an umbrella organization created by President Zelenskyy: https://u24.gov.ua/
