Down through the ages, Russia has tried to kill the Ukrainian identity. They have done everything to present Ukraine as the rural outskirts of the ‘great, educated and advanced’ Russian empire. But the ones who proclaimed themselves enlighteners were merely butchers, murderers. They did everything they could to erase Ukrainian culture, traditions, and even the Ukrainian language itself.

And they are still doing this, even now, literally. During the last eleven years of war, Russia has killed hundreds of people of literature. Writers, poets, translators, editors, publishers and librarians. Ukrainian men and women. As you read these words, others are left to disappear in an unread draft forever.

There is a project called ‘Nedopysani‘ (‘Unfinished‘ in English). It’s a memorial site for people of literature who will never be able to put that final dot in their notebook, who will never be able to take into their hands their first published book. And so, this is our hard and painful mission. This is what we must do for them. It is inevitable.

Today, we present the next instalment of our translation series, ‘Words Live On’. We have done our best, and we hope that it will speak to our Dear Readers in a way that cold, clinical war statistics cannot. Nika was a bright talent, as her poetry and illustrations attest, and we hope you will honour her memory with us. She was only eighteen, and taken from the world far too soon.

Glory to Ukraine! To our heroes — glory!

The angriest poems that come out are about God.
There it smells of disappointment, frankincense and grief.
The Almighty is mentioned only in the context of absence.
Atheism wakens only in zealous Catholics.
Take up the cross with maimed paws.
Drop a line when you get to Hell.
And while you’re crossing out the signs,
You’re developing haemophilia.
God applies to wounds only empty Bible pages.

Найзліші вірші виходять про Бога.
Там пахне зневірою, ладаном і журбою.
Всевишній згадується лише в контексті відсутності.
Атеїзм прокидається лише в вірних католиків.
Бери хрест до знівечених лап.
Пиши, як ти потрапиш в ад.
І, допоки викреслюєш знаки,
У тебе розвивається гемофілія.
Бог докладає до ран лише порожні сторінки Біблії.

Original poem by VERONIKA KOZHUSHKO
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA
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