Tag Archives: Sacrifice

TATI’s AND TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // The Dead by John Le Gay Brereton

Hail and farewell to those who fought and died,
Not laughingly adventurous, nor pale
With idiot hatred, nor to fill the tale
Of racial selfishness and patriot pride,
But merely that their own souls rose and cried
Alarum when they heard the sudden wail
Of stricken freedom and along the gale
Saw her eternal banner quivering wide.

Farewell, high-hearted friends, for God is dead
If such as you can die and fare not well
If when you fall your gallant spirit fail.
You are with us still, and can we be adread
Though hell gape, bloody-fanged and horrible?
Glory and hope of us who love you, Hail!

by JOHN LE GAY BRERETON (1871-1933)
Public Domain Poetry

nonetheless

i gave myself away
and the more i gave
the less there was of me

i am only finite
i can only feel so much

i kneeled myself to pray
and the more i prayed
the less there was of me

i am only finite
i can only bleed so much

i resigned myself to another day
and the more i cried
the less there was of me

i am only finite
i am only human

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

TATI’S TRANSLATIONS // Young Ukrainian Poets: Poseidon

Tati Translates Poseidon

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.

Untitled

When everything ends
The sirens grown numb
Loved ones will be hugged
Properly, as they should be

Following the north wind
I will reach an areal of tears
Mighty and ancient
I will bow to the ocean
And begin to cry bitterly

I will give my soul
To heal children’s wounds
I will give my blood
For the lives of veterans

I will give my heart
For the devouring of the fucking war
Ripping it out again, and again
For the memory of the deceased
For the memory of scars

I will give my body
To dissolve in a wineglass
I will give my life
For this free, unsubdued land
Lay here forever
With my happy
Bones

Без назви

Коли все закінчиться
Зніміють сирени
Близькі будуть обійняті
Як слід, як треба

За вітром північним
Дістанусь сліз ареалу
Могутньому і древньому
Вклонюсь океану
І гірко заплачу

Душу віддам
Щоб дитячі загоїти рани
Кров я віддам
Щоб жили ветерани

Серце віддам
Сучій війні на поталу
Вириватиму знову і знову
Щоб пам’ятати полеглих
Щоб не забути про шрами

Тіло віддам
Щоб розчинитись в бокали
Життя віддам
Щоб на вільній, нескореній землі
Залишитись
Щасливими
Кістками

Original poem by POSEIDON
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2023

welcome to baanail

somewhere in the country of baanail
is a teddy on a spike, its plush guts laid out
they say you shouldn’t be afraid of your fears
but when you see this grisly sight you’ll burst into tears

somewhere in the country of baanail
lurks a nightmare cult of toy sacrificers
they rip off button noses and beaded eyes
and snip cotton throats to silence their cries

somewhere in the country of baanail
an unsettled tourist is regretting he came
he deletes all his photos and cancels his bookings
vows never to return for future lookings

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021

the blacklight gaze

maybe i am nothing
or maybe i did happen once
but history was never my story
and paradise always belonged to you
maybe if i denied my need
maybe if i’ve not said too much
i might finally find my field of reeds
to walk in, perchance to breathe

fain don’t you light a candle for me
for tomorrow’s breeze would see me gone
so scorn me not for a child
i intend to bleed from open hands

maybe i am grateful
or maybe i’ll be the final smile
frozen between provident lines
where i’m never right and you’re never wrong
maybe i haven’t bled enough
maybe if i defied the need
in an ultraviolet field of reeds
to haze in, ergo to breathe

fain don’t you light a candle for me
for tomorrow’s breeze would see me gone
so scorn me not for a child
i intend to bleed over scorched sands

maybe my blood was fire
maybe i am guttering now
bleeding out blackened fields of need
to lay in, forgo to breathe
so maybe i am something
maybe i’ll not betide even once
everyone’s busy living and dying
least of all me

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020