Literary classics aren’t always created by the greying elder statesmen and women of the writing world. You know the ones. They’re all wise and wrinkly and impassive, and woe betide the scholar who dares mount an honest critique of their bodies of work.

You see, literary classics are also written by upstart youngsters. These youngsters are full of vitality and creativity. They live fully awake and fully aware during these very difficult times. Nothing escapes their notice and they’re unafraid to share what they really think. They walk among us right now, breathing, smiling and crying, loving and hating, experiencing the full range of their humanity without apology.

This series presents names that you won’t find in textbooks or on Wikipedia, but these are the very youngsters who are creating modern Ukrainian literature right now. Trust us, you will want to check them out because it’s only a matter of time before they become household names. When we go back to these writers in two hundred years, we have no doubt that they’ll be mentioned in the same breath as luminaries such as Taras Shevchenko and Lesya Ukrainka.

heart-throat

remember
my rabid hand
fiddled in your dog’s jaws
ragged fingers fondled ticklishly
wickered with dry sinews
the worn nail’s gums

no matter which hand
then filling with saliva
no matter which foam
a pet cytherea crawling out
if now one is left
with four fingers

varenyky or pierogi
the stomach can’t see
a pinky or a thumb
the dog’s stomach won’t remember
maybe should give the other hand
or take away a stubborn heart

let’s count on fingers
won’t give this, and won’t give this
won’t give this, and won’t give that
and this the dog
nom

on your street
kids shaped a song
there lived a four-fingered boy
the fifth one was cut from the leg
the toe was screwed on to the hand
what a weirdo ahahaha

i don’t care
i have a heart in my stomach
and two pinkies
on each hand

серце-гїд

пам’ятаєш
моя скажена рука
борсалась у пащі собаки твоєї
кудлаті пальці лоскітливо гладили
обплітали сухо жилами
стерті ясна нігтів

байдуже яка рука
тоді наливалася слиною
байдуже з якої піни
видибала ручна кіприда
коли тепер зоставсь
чотирипалий

вареники чи pierogi
шлунок не бачить
мізинець чи великий
собачий шлунок не запам’ятає
чи може дати другу руку
аби забрати вперте серце

давай лічить на пальцях
цього не дам й цього не дам
цього не дам і цей не дам
а цей собако
гам

у твоєму дворі
діти пісню склали
був хлопчак чотирипалий
п’ятий зрізали з ноги
прикрутили п’ятий палець
ну й дивак ги-ги ги-ги

мені байдуже
маю в шлунку серце
і по два мізинці
на кожній руці

Original poem by MYKOLA HUMENIUK
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA
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