TATI’S TRANSLATIONS // Young Ukrainian Poets: Oleksii Dolhulov

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.

MUST NOT SLEEP

must not sleep
not yet for every loner
was created a pair
that could fit them in name
and length of stride

must not sleep
what’s up
not yet for every child
was created a future
so dry and grotesque
that at that moment every star
will think thrice before
lighting up

НЕ МОЖНА СПАТИ

не можна спати
ще не кожному самотньому
була вигадана пара
яка пасувала б йому за іменем
та довжиною кроку

не можна спати
ти чого
ще не кожній дитині
вигадане майбутнє
таке сухе та гротескне
що в той час кожна зірка
спочатку тричі подумає
поки засвітиться

Original poem by OLEKSII DOLHULOV
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA

© All rights reserved 2024

vernal whistlestop

hey there, whistle pig
jumpin’ at your own shadow
i heard loose chatter
’bout the oracle of spring
surmisals of what you are

are you really tho’
in a world that is burning
the end at our door

hey there, whistle pig
time & season frock to you
like sacred vestments
as dictum starved rootle minds
shuttle past the hot black tar

what will you augur
in a world full of burning
the end at our door

hey there, whistle pig
when have you ever been right
flowers wilt in march
forsooth a burning april
‘neath the californian stars

have you e’er been real
in a world black with burning
the end at our door

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

moonwalks & jitterbugs

hey, rocketman, where are your wings
where are your heart-shaped sunglasses
& what are those drops of blood there
smeared along that yellow brick road
who’ll save you from critical thought
you think it’s gonna be your time
who’ll spoon-feed you zen magic now
the touchdown’s gonna smash you up

rocketman, where’s your piano
your pocketful of skimming stones
exchanged your ticket to the moon
for cheeky mooning & moonshine
who’ll grant you the life that you sought
you’ve fought so hard to make that climb
who’ll sing to you your swan song now
that splashdown’s gonna wreck you up

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

nezlamnist

yellow grain waving no surrender
in the onslaught of another storm
we will bend again, again & again
but never level to the ground

why should we rest in pieces
we demand to live in peace
we are not asking
the bear must turn & leave

we are not afraid
you try to raze us down
still we dare to stand
it’s you who are afraid now

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Babel by Lola Ridge

Oh, God did cunningly, there at Babel –
Not mere tongues dividing, but soul from soul,
So that never again should men be able
To fashion one infinite, towering whole.

by LOLA RIDGE (1873-1941)
Public Domain Poetry