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.

/Kateryna: girding the world/

i taped up the windows with scotch tape
so
when it explodes
the carpet won’t be sown with
glass debris
’cause suddenly they will sprout

i taped up the fish tank with scotch tape
so
when it explodes
it won’t leak
the shadows of sunk fish

i taped up the mirror with scotch tape
so
when it explodes
i will still be able to see
in my home
myself

i taped up a frame with scotch tape
but
with the black one
and only one corner of the photo

the only thing
for which the scotch tape ran out
it’s me
so, i stand broken
with my forehead cracked up
and space goes through me
like through a smashed windowpane

/Катерина: підперезування світу/

я заклеїла вікна скотчем
аби
коли вибухне
килим не всіяло
уламками скла
бо раптом ще проростуть

я заклеїла акваріум скотчем
аби
коли вибухне
звідти не витекли
тіні потоплених риб

я заклеїла дзеркало скотчем
аби
коли вибухне
я ще змогла побачити
у себе вдома
себе

я заклеїла рамку скотчем
але
чорним
і тільки в куті фотографії

єдине
на що забракло скотча
це я
тож стою розбита
з потрісканим чолом
і простір проходить крізь мене
ніби крізь вибиту шибку

Original poem by ILLIA RUDIJKO
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA
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