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!

It’s as if the watch is an hour and a half slow
You go to work or the cinema, take a train
Everything is to schedule, on time, as it ought to be
But the watch keeps saving some time for later

Unless it’s Sunday, you wake up late in the morning
And you don’t have to go anywhere, then you take
The watch in your hand and count the time on it
Well, it looks like it’s now finally keeping good time

But tomorrow, on Monday, everything is in place again
Once again, you can’t fix that hour and a half
Because you don’t have time to take the watch in for repair…
Something like that happens with an overdue Christmas

Just tell your kids, if they haven’t learnt yet
That Saint Nicholas and Koliada come a little bit quicker
When they set the watch back by yesterday, on their own
And you can sleep the whole Sunday, if you wish

То як годинник, що відстав на півтори години
Ти ходиш на роботу чи в кіно, сідаєш в потяг
Все вчасно, без запізнень, все цілком як має бути
Але годинник далі відкладає час на потім

Хіба коли неділя, вранці ти встаєш пізніше
І йти тобі не треба нікуди, тоді береш ти
Годинник свій на руку і рахуєш час по ньому
Так, ніби він все правильно показує нарешті

А завтра, в понеділок, знову все на свому місці
І знову півтори години виправити годі
Бо все часу нема годинник той в ремонт занести…
Десь так то і з Різдвом протермінованим виходить

Ти тільки дітям то скажи, як ще вони не взнали
Що Миколай і Коляда приходять трохи скорше
Вони самі докрутять той годинник вже на вчора
А ти собі в неділю спи хоч цілий день як хочеш

Original poem by OLEH KLIUFAS
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA
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