Translated by Andrew Sheppard
Kyiv, March 2022
No. 1
In the blood
embroidered shirt,
and the sun,
in the fog.
From night
until morning
columns of
tanks
churn
our Earth.
Smile no more
children,
the field groans,
the wind moans
and bombs
pierce
our air.
We have to live
with this pain –
will have to live
with our
truth
and your lies.
No. 2
On the gentle shoulders
of spring
on the soul of my motherland –
of my unbroken
country,
there was not just the
shadow of war
but death
with eyes wide open.
Do not ask
occupiers
what will happen to you
when your dreams
explode
from the bombs that fall
on our villages and
towns.
No. 3
What a long winter!
Oh just don’t go
crazy.
And the sound of a siren –
calls of a shofar horn
saved the humble
in moments of nightmare.
And the wax-like snow
fell and fell
from the Motherland of Heaven
to the Motherland of Hell.
No. 4
What different
fates –
we have a war,
and time
painted
in colour red,
you, in Europe,
have peace,
and time,
because of fear
flies over you
white flag,
and heart
of stone,
alas,
you have one
for everyone.
No. 5
It is not your
sun,
it is our
Sun
is in mourning today.
These, our Killed,
have become our
Saviour Angels.
No. 6
Eyes burnt by tears,
of our children and mothers.
I hear how moans
from wounds my Earth.
And sleep in the arms of the night
sisters of time –
uninvited death
and tremulous life.
No. 7
We swallowed the bait
of sleeplessness
the way we could.
We didn’t have time
to look around.
Like a howl,
sirens began their
hurdy-gurdy.
Time is torn to shreds.
Who could believe that
life has been rent
into before and after.
Horizon’s veins
have swollen.
Death
burst open doors.
No. 8
Night from morning,
the soul of the people
is heavier than clouds.
WAR.
Hush,
for God’s sake be quiet,
sleeping baby buggies
of
dead children.
No. 9
Mariupol
A deathly pale
moon
froze over the city,
bent in posture,
reading the funeral
prayer.
This city is encircled, but
the city is no more.
Nothing but groans under the
THEATRE rubble.
The theatre of war
remains, but
THE THEATRE IS NO MORE
It has become
a monument,
a mass grave
for those hearts
that stopped beating
forever
in its stone arms.
Do not ask
where sleep is harder
– in the cellars
or on the downy,
feather beds
that are the clouds.
No. 10
Russian soldier,
what did you forget
in my land?
We had grief enough
without you.
You would do better
to pity mommy,
when
parcel ‘200’
arrives for her;
when her tears
will sprinkle
your lifeless
face.
Russian soldier,
you would do well
to spare mommy;
since yourself
you could not save.
No. 11
Do not trust
silence.
It’s scared,
and looks around
to both sides.
Do not believe
the WAR is
all to blame.
It suffers too,
no less …
…than us.
No. 12
Tin
Soldiers of
Europe,
wake up,
while it’s
not too late.
This is life,
not a game.
No. 13
Protect the sky.
Not only
are we
being killed
in this war,
our souls too
are
perishing.
No. 14
People of the world,
stuck in
a monotone
routine
like a street
wench,
do not yield access.
They want sharpness,
emotions
over the edge.
Well, help yourself,
see first
the cover of
TIME magazine,
then turn
to reports
about Ukraine
on CNN.
And now
imagine
a bomber
circling
like a black swan
over your
head.
I know you are for peace,
but only for yourselves
in EUROPE.
No. 15
Here is the military
field hospital.
You understand the conditions?
So-so,
but human.
And he is one of them –
of the wounded, of course.
A simple soldier,
forty-five years old,
he is covered in bandages and blood
frozen reminders
of himself.
Without saying a word,
he suddenly rises
from the bed and, as it were,
apologetically, he says,
somewhere in the abyss,
into the void – emptiness –
‘Well, how much
can kill?’
Then he lies down
on the bed
And quietly, imperceptibly
dies.
No. 16
In the landscape
of divine love,
as in human memory,
these cities,
Irpin, Chernihiv, Mariupol,
remain beautiful –
as they were before the war.
NOW, here’s the view
from space –
everything looks blacker than the night.
No. 17
Irpin
Do you remember the river
Irpin,
that was barely visible
on the map?
Spilled, it became the sea –
furious grief!
Call her after
Wars
from that world, and from this
too.
CALL her please
after the war.
No. 18
What kind of people are you?
What a strange people.
We came on tanks
to save you,
but for some reason you
are not happy.
There is no fear or terror
in your eyes.
Look to the West.
They tremble like aspen
leaves in a breeze,
repeating like a mantra
‘None of our soldiers,
not one of our soldiers….’
Is it hard for you to understand
world order,
and the proper order of the earth?
We kill you with brotherly love,
and they kill you with European
friendship
No. 19
It was like a battle,
of which there were already many.
The soldiers marched in single file,
cursing with terrible,
wild obscenities.
But how else? In war,
war is like war.
There was no fear in their eyes,
our children walked on courage,
walked on their Earth.
No one thought that they would die,
not before their time.
No. 20
We have not
gone
anywhere;
are not
leaving.
This is our
War,
this is
our
Motherland.
Our house
is destroyed,
but it is still
our House.