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

i didn’t believe in god then and won’t ever believe for sure
the mines grow up between us, hellish vermilion dots
the air bites your chest and penetrates the dermis like a stone
you will be able to exhale when it’s over, probably

and you know, it’s better to not look up when it rains
hold closer the bulletproof vest, open your umbrella
and play tic-tac-toe, always start with the center
they have already invented this rule – step between alive and dead
keep your fire close, don’t let it fall down
because when it has gone out – they again will take it away
your parents and cultural memory, all the streets of your hometown
you know, the dragon is hungry and will devour mercilessly

everything they can’t take, moreover create on their own
you step closer to the dragon, submit our flowers
caress their coarse scales with your bare hands
there is no one in the sky, so just behead the dragon

Без назви

не вірила в бога і вже не повірю точно
між нас поростають міни, багряно-пекельні точки
повітря кусає груди і каменем входить в дерму
а видих зробити зможеш коли це скінчиться, певне

і знаєш, коли дощить не варто дивитись вгору
притисни бронежилет, розкрий свою парасолю
і грайся у хрестики-нулики, завжди починай ізсередини
це правило вже придумали – ходи між живими й мертвими
тримай свій вогонь при собі, не дай йому впасти долу
бо тільки-но він погасне – у тебе відіймуть знову
батьків і культурну пам’ять, всі вулиці твого міста
ти знаєш, дракон голодний і буде нещадно їсти

все те, що не в змозі взяти, а надто – самим створити
підходь же до нього ближче, подай йому наші квіти
погладь по загрублій лусці своїми руками голими
у небі нікого немає, тож просто зітни йому голову

Original poem by YULIIA YASKOVA
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2024