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.

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I want the soberness of peace, like an ant,
that stubbornly conquers the elbow peak
and isn’t afraid to fall.

I want the firmness of peace, like a daisy,
that observes the sun
and isn’t afraid of a human footstep.

I want the lightness of peace, like a leaf,
that carelessly plays with the wind
and isn’t afraid of the Fall.

I want the heaviness of peace, like an apple,
that jumps off the branch
and isn’t afraid to roll underfoot.

I want the turbulence of peace, like a stream,
that untiringly swirls
and isn’t afraid of drought.

I want the slowness of peace, like these words,
that flow letter by letter from
the timid mind,
the bizarre mind,
that doesn’t let me pass into sleep.

My peace got lost,
like a toy on a children’s playground.
When you find it,
leave it at the address on the back page:
at the door of the house that’s been gone a while.

Без назви

Хочу тверезого спокою, як у мурашки,
що вперто підкорює вершину ліктя
і не боїться впасти.

Хочу міцного спокою, як у маргаритки,
що споглядає сонце
і не боїться людського кроку.

Хочу легкого спокою, як у листка,
що безтурботно бавиться вітром
і не боїться осені.

Хочу важкого спокою, як у яблука,
що зістрибує з гілки
і не боїться скотитись під ноги.

Хочу бурхливого спокою, як у потічка,
що нуртує невтомно
і не боїться посухи.

Хочу повільного спокою, як у цих словах,
що літера за літерою витікають з
полохливого розуму,
химерного розуму,
що не дає забутись вві сні.

Загубився мій спокій,
ніби забавка на дитячому майданчику.
Коли знайдете його,
залиште за адресою зі зворотного боку:
на порозі дому, якого давно нема.

Original poem by SOFIIA LENARTOVYCH
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA
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