Tag Archives: Trauma

TATI’S TRANSLATIONS // Young Ukrainian Poets: Illia Rudijko

Tati Translates Illia Rudijko

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
© All rights reserved 2024

briar recusant

as much as i fear dying
i’m leaning into persistence
and yes i will endure

as much as i know the rules
i’m leaning into the impromptu
and yes i will dance and play

as much as i remember
i’m leaning into here and now
and yes i will believe for tomorrow

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

ampersand

i have gnawed on misery
thrown peace of mind to the hounds
auditioned for dread shadows &
spun despair into crowns

i’ve swung on rusty wolfsangel
’til twisted tongue tasted sense
depending not on fogyish gods
only upon blood & instinct

you failed me &
they failed you &
the gravity of truth will
bring it all crashing down

i will fall as though i meant it &
much prefer running blind
i’d sooner hie than fulgurate
in the dimming of your minds &

i’d sooner tear all your throats out
to the last tooth & breath
i have gnawed on misery
it’s now your turn… or fucking death

you failed me &
they failed you &
the gravity of truth will
bring us all crashing down

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

it should be a song

how much do you really know
is it enough to get by in life
is time the la peau de chagrin
upon which you can make your mark

they say this is the way

can a shrine replace the shrunken heart
how heavy is your dedication
do you wish to join the holy bores
or master self emdr

they say this is the way
it’s your choice to go or stay

have you never seen a kisser
kill off his darlings out of spite
is god the trauma in religion
are you the hearth that warms the home

it’s your choice to go or stay
tomorrow begins today

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

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