Tag Archives: Writing

WORDS LIVE ON // Viktoriia Amelina

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!

Do you see the woman with her arm stretched back?
Like she is pulling a suitcase or leading someone behind her
The invisible suitcase is heavy because the woman walks slowly
Such women are called insane by society

She had nothing left to take from her burned down house
And who’d lived with her there, now nobody knows
But they follow her and the youngest one cannot keep up
And then the woman stops, she is always waiting for him

Бачиш жінку з простягнутою назад рукою?
Вона ніби тягне валізу або веде когось за собою
Невидима валіза важка, бо жінка іде повільно
Такі жінки загалом називаються божевільні

Їй нічого було брати з її згорілого дому
І хто там із нею жив, невідомо тепер нікому
Але вони йдуть за нею і молодший все не встигає
І жінка тоді зупиняється: вона завжди на нього чекає

Original poem by VIKTORIIA AMELINA
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2023

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

WORDS LIVE ON // Taras Matviiv

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!

Excrement

Oh Lord, why do you churn out
the sick, the orphans, the starving,
the homeless and drunkards, junkies,
the heathens and sodomites, plotters,
barricaders and the majority? –
create finally in Your likeness!

Екскремент

О Господи, нащо плодиш
хворих, сиріт, голодних,
бездомних і п’яниць, наркоманів,
безбожників й содомітів, інтриганів,
барикадників та більшість? –
сотвори врешті Свою подобу!

Original poem by TARAS MATVIIV
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2020

TATI’s AND 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

WORDS LIVE ON // Ihor Mysiak

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!

Saltern (to Drohobych)

This is not like dawdling in a bookstore,
looking for the seen and unseen for ages,
look, at this saltern
nobody memorises poems about winter.
There’s stillness, but for wintering
even this is not enough of course,
how do you feel standing near the building
that is older than your entire city…
While the noble trees burn,
crackling beneath the pots,
winter goes slowly to the last stop,
and then what will happen to us?
What will happen? Or is everything in vain?
Snow has dwindled, like guests at the end of a wedding,
how do you feel being at the saltern?
How do you feel being the salt?

Солеварня (Дрогобичу)

Це тобі не сидіти в книгарні,
вічно шукати зриме й незриме,
подивися, на цій солеварні
ніхто не знає віршів про зиму.
Тут є спокій та для зимівлі
і цього не достатньо звісно,
як тобі стояти біля будівлі,
яка старша за твоє місто…
Доки горять благородні дерева,
потріскуючи під казанами,
зима повільно йде на кінцеву,
і що тоді буде з нами?
Що тоді буде? Чи все намарно?
Снігу, як гостей в кінці весілля,
як тобі бути на солеварні?
Як тобі бути сіллю?

Original poem by IHOR MYSIAK
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2020