Tag Archives: November

TATI’S TRANSLATIONS // Young Ukrainian Poets: Bohdan Bratus

Tati Translates Bohdan Bratus

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.

A poem about November

Again, I’ve lived until the Fall
Though last November
the way felt insurmountable
The Father says
the Winter will be tough
so, we should do the
canning
The poems are the same
‘bout November
I start to write in July

Вірш про листопад

Знову дожив до осені
Хоча минулого листопаду
нездоланним здавався шлях
Каже батько
що зима буде важка
тож треба робити
закрутки
Так само вірші
про листопад
починаю писати з липня

Original poem by BOHDAN BRATUS
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2024

meanwhile… rain

let’s not run away
next time they hunt us down
let’s stay there and look
at their bewildered faces

let’s sit on the dirty curb
have a smoke (though both of us don’t)
and watch as they’re chased away
by a freezing november rain

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2021

GUEST POST // Memories from the dead by Richard Green

On these damp and grey November days I think
Of things that should have happened but never did.
Of conversations that were never spoken
Afraid to raise the memories from the dead.

Of the questions that were formed but never asked.
Of the the horrors that were felt but never breathed.
Of carefully made plans that never began.
Of the dreams discarded like old newspapers.

I never finished that book, that course that day.
I never figured out what I was feeling.
I never found all the words I tried to speak.
I never look back, never ever look back.

I should’ve told her how he was hurting me.
I should’ve screamed and kicked and made him stop it.
I should’ve bit down hard when I had the chance.
I should have cut his throat as he slept at night.

I could’ve been anything I wanted to.
I could’ve worked harder, been more compliant.
I could’ve been less terrified of success.
I could’ve done better, could’ve done much better.

I never developed a strong sense of self.
I never knew who I was supposed to be.
I never learned to trust my intuition.
I never really understood my feelings.

I learned to switch off and disassociate.
I learned that alcohol kept the pain at bay.
I learned that I was damaged, unloveable.
I earned not to trust people, they would hurt me.

All the wasted time of wishing I was dead
All the years never truly daring to live.
All the hurt I’ve done to others in my rage.
All this time I’ve let you walk around unharmed.

Now here I am still broken but not giving up.
Now I know my childhood was stolen from me.
Now I can survey the damage done to me.
Now I’m going to take the final fight to
you.

On these damp and grey November days I know
The things that should have never happened, but did.
Of the revelations that were never heard
It’s time to raise the memories from the dead.

by RICHARD GREEN
© All rights reserved 2019