ice cube, shop tin roof
mourning’s inevitable
with dawn’s bastard sun
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025
ice cube, shop tin roof
mourning’s inevitable
with dawn’s bastard sun
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025
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!
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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!
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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
all the skeleta dansing
dansing in their skin shells again
in a world burning to the ground
stubbing their durry minds in
that ash bowl of hell they once called eden
would that you’d been a part of this
or would you have, given such souls
them resolute that turned their backs
on curiosity & knowing
three cheers to the danse
the pleasing aroma of reason charring
to the snuff of nothing above the clouds
all the skeleta dansing
a descent into backwards heights
the danse of flurried minds tonight
we’ll exist should they allow it
but don’t hold your breath
their masks full with empty fool heads
all hail the bliss of dullening
to themselves be the glory
to mine own the lost othered story
three cheers to the danse
the macabre aroma of reason charring
good that you’d not been part of this
in a garden of dimming lights & lost delights
how do they not concede the signs
all pointing away from their vaunted heaven
now, one more time
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025
i will always love you
mother, who carried me
it’s been a year since you’ve gone
i feel your smile lingering on
& i still don’t know why
you won’t let me lay down & cry
i miss you more now, it’s true
& still don’t know what i’m to do
guess i could pass your kindness on
instead of waiting for death erelong
for as long as i’ve left to live
i guess i’ll learn to let it be
‘don’t go near the frangipani tree’
this is what you would say to me
then i‘d try to be your good boy
won’t you let me cry now please
i never did learn to see you true
never did wonder if you felt rue
a lifetime of days before i was born
like petals fallen in the dawn
it feels like i hardly knew you
now i’m here too late… & waiting
& yet i will always love you
mother, who carried me
i miss you more each passing day
& now i find there’s less to say
with this vast space between us
i hope i was your good boy
‘don’t go near the frangipani tree’
this is what you would say to me
i don’t think your boy can smile any more
won’t somebody let me cry now please
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025
one life to live, one chance to give
two sides to every story & a chasm between
three words that mean everything: i see you
four pillars of living: compassion, kindness, loyalty, grace
five w’s to every situation: who, what, when, where, why
six degrees, the closest you’ll get to kevin bacon
seven wonders of the world that everyone should see
eight sneezes & you have an orgasm
nine ways to get to sunday
ten minutes, one sixth of a precious hour
by CASSY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025