Tag Archives: Reflections

WORDS LIVE ON // Illia Chernilevskyi

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.

Glory to Ukraine! To our heroes — glory!

Because someone put a leash on my tongue,
because now there is no one to say, “I’m missing,”
because truth is—in fact—not a signpost,
because there are no truths at all in the world.
That’s why your “today”
is only today
and the Sun, like a puppy, licks the earth’s feet,
because all our tears are bitter and salty
emigrated forever to the land of self‑depreciation.
Because the stars are soft, like the heels of infants,
because the whole world, ’til the last drop
explodes each day and flows back into the womb,
like the footprints left by Jesus’s sandals.
Because a word and rhyme long ago
lost their status as weapons of mass destruction,
because the wrinkles appeared
in a gaze at the window,
and you did not notice them
in your daily reflection.

Тому що хтось надів нашийник на мій язик,
тому що нікому казати тепер «I’m missing»,
тому що істина – насправді не вказівник,
тому що в світі взагалі немає ніяких істин.
Тому є твоє «сьогодні»
лише сьогодні
і сонце, що ноги землі, як цуцик, лиже,
тому що всі наші сльози гіркі й солоні
емігрували навіки в країну самопринижень.
Тому що зорі м’які, як п’яти у немовлят,
тому що весь світ до останньої краплі
вибухає щоденно і лине в утробу назад,
як сліди, що лишили Ісуса сандалі.
Тому що слово і рима уже давно
утратили статус зброї масового ураження,
тому що з’явились зморшки
у погляді на вікно,
яких ти не помітив
у щоденному відображенні.

Original poem by ILLIA CHERNILEVSKYI
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2022

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Since Then by Madison Julius Cawein

I found myself among the trees
What time the reapers ceased to reap;
And in the sunflower-blooms the bees
Huddled brown heads and went to sleep,
Rocked by the balsam-breathing breeze.
I saw the red fox leave his lair,
A shaggy shadow, on the knoll;
And tunneling his thoroughfare
Beneath the soil, I watched the mole
Stealth’s own self could not take more care.
I heard the death-moth tick and stir,
Slow-honeycombing through the bark;
I heard the cricket’s drowsy chirr,
And one lone beetle burr the dark
The sleeping woodland seemed to purr.
And then the moon rose: and one white
Low bough of blossoms grown almost
Where, ere you died, ’twas our delight
To meet, dear heart! I thought your ghost…
The wood is haunted since that night.

by MADISON JULIUS CAWEIN (1865-1914)
Public Domain Poetry

GUEST POST // Reflections: A Walk-Through Life by Tessie

When the last grain of sand finally falls,
through the cracks of the hourglass,
I hope it finds me grateful, content,
having lived a life that’s truly been mine.

With no regrets, I’ll cherish memories:
breaking rules, stealing smiles, and free.
I jumped the gun, fell deeply in love,
and watched sunrise, euphoric and above.

On rooftops, I danced with morning dew,
felt life’s pulse, and let my spirit renew.
My time’s been filled with laughter, tears,
and moments that dispel all fears.

When my hour’s up, I’ll greet death’s gentle keeper,
with cheer, and finally, eternal sleep’s whisper.
I’ll ask to haunt old libraries’ hallowed halls,
play with the clouds, and hear their gentle calls.

Till then, I live. I laugh, cry, smile,
at life’s beauty, and it’s worthwhile.

by TESSIE
© All rights reserved 2024

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // A Dirge. by Christina Georgina Rossetti

Why were you born when the snow was falling?
You should have come to the cuckoo’s calling,
Or when grapes are green in the cluster,
Or, at least, when lithe swallows muster
For their far off flying
From summer dying.

Why did you die when the lambs were cropping?
You should have died at the apples’ dropping,
When the grasshopper comes to trouble,
And the wheat-fields are sodden stubble,
And all winds go sighing
For sweet things dying.

by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI (1830-1894)
Public Domain Poetry

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Sea Longing by Sara Teasdale

A thousand miles beyond this sun-steeped wall
Somewhere the waves creep cool along the sand,
The ebbing tide forsakes the listless land
With the old murmur, long and musical;
The windy waves mount up and curve and fall,
And round the rocks the foam blows up like snow,
Tho’ I am inland far, I hear and know,
For I was born the sea’s eternal thrall.
I would that I were there and over me
The cold insistence of the tide would roll,
Quenching this burning thing men call the soul,
Then with the ebbing I should drift and be
Less than the smallest shell along the shoal,
Less than the sea-gulls calling to the sea.

by SARA TEASDALE (1884-1933)
Public Domain Poetry