#ukrainian poetry

[folklorespring]

Here are two poems by Maksym Kryvtsov, a Ukrainian poet, who was killed defending Ukraine back in January. One of the poems is dedicated to a ginger cat that followed him around faithfully and later died with him. Please read his words, don't let them die too.

[dontforgetukraine]

"When someone asks me what war is, I will answer them without hesitation: names. Oh, black sea of ​​sunflowers, receive me. I’m tired of waiting..."

—Maksym Kryvtsov, poet and fallen Ukrainian soldier

[theophan-o]

A beautiful Ukrainian Cossack Hero by Ukrainian contemporary artist and illustrator, Kateryna Shtanko (Катерина Штанко)

This illustration has been published in an anthology of poems by Taras Shevchenko (Тарас Шевченко): Т. Шевченко, У нашім раї на землі..., Київ 2018.

It is a fan&didactic account, existing only for the Cossack Heroes glory and promoting Ukrainian heritage worldwide. Copyright belongs to the Artist/Museum.

[amelancholic]

Vasyl Symonenko is basically is the best poet in the whole world

[redjaybathood]

I am seriously considering that actually, the best poet for Jason Todd is Vasyl Stus.

Vasyl Stus - A man approached a memorial... / Василь Стус – Чоловік підійшов до меморіуму…

[ripeteeth]

Of All Literature - Serhiy Zhadan

Of all literature

and all language

I’m most interested in words

used to address

the dead.

What if someone spoke a sentence

that could stir the sonic field of death?

Listen to me,

you — deprived of the sweet receptors of song.

Listen to me now,

hear my whisper,

distorted by the acoustics of nonexistence.

Listen to me,

you — marked by dialects, like scars throughout your lives,

you — whose throats were scratched since childhood by the burning

needles of the alphabet,

you — singers who could imitate bird calls.

I know — it is unfair

you cannot answer

the voices calling out to you from the mist today,

you cannot say anything to defend yourself,

you cannot protect the vacant land of night

between memory and expectation.

But language is important even after death,

like the deepening of a riverbed,

like the rise of heat for the first time in autumn

in a great home.

The only rule — grow roots,

break through.

The only change — reach out for a branch, grab hold of a voice.

There is nothing else.

No one will remember you for your silence.

No one but you can name the rivers nearby.

You who are only echoes,

you who are filled with silence,

speak, speak now,

speak as grass,

speak as frost,

speak as conductors of music.

(trans. Virlana Tkacz and Wanda Phipps)

[ohsalome]

Vasyl Symonenko

Translated by Kyrylo Snizhko

[gwenllianwales]

Мої знайомі стали вулицями, Імена на пам'ять залишені.

Мої знайомі стали петиціями, Підписи поставлено стишено.

Мої знайомі стали стрічками, Синьо-жовті стяги опущені.

Мої знайомі стали книгами, В кінці читачі засмучені.

Мої знайомі стали зорями, Далекими й трохи млявими.

Мої знайомі стали спогадом, Живими, але вже примарами.

@ukrfanficshn

[inthenameof-thoughts]

прощання

стань моїм привидом, коли я піду хай я буду жива через призму твою торкайся стопами моїх сліз на траві слухай, як щебочуть мої голоси

друже мій рідний, вже майже весна не забудь мої очі зі снігу і скла читай мої книги зі стертих полиць слухай платівки, що збирали колись

мені так самотньо у хмарах важких згадую квіти, шепіт і сміх я не лечу без твого крила без тебе для мене едему нема

мої коси тепер це лиш синя імла мій подих це іній на сонних гілках мої руки це мох на корі і камнях моє серце це дощ на твоїх рукавах

я залишу тебе для сумних журавлів здається, бог лиш нам зорі створив давати, втрачати - це все те саме скоро ти знайдеш, зустрінеш мене

[folklorespring]

by Victoria Amelina, translated from Ukrainian by Anatoly Kudryavitsky

[dontforgetukraine]

i return on a bus full of quiet children (2022)

by Halyna Kruk; translated by Amelia M. Glaser and Yuliya Ilchuk

i return on a bus full of quiet children, silent mothers with bundles of winter clothes from distant lands where they were safe but unhappy, sad, eyes looking back where they waited each night for a return trip longing to meet someone, anyone to tell them their cities were still there not made-up homes drawn by children beneath a sun, because everyone knows the sun, but home — far from everyone, but dad or mom — not everyone. it takes so long to relearn pre-war things, former skills, even longer than coming home from various countries longer than forgetting the sound of explosions, someone's dying scream, the empty water canister shared by everyone in that basement, who stayed in that basement. a boy draws a cat without a leg, and the people who never came out, and he draws himself, silent. with a red felt pen, red screams for everyone and black buries the ones who didn't come out the bus carries us home through the night past memories on the roadside past fear that neither home nor city is there

[thegirlwhohid]

One of the poems of Victoria Amelina, written after the start of the full-scale invasion.

[orchard-bliss]

Mariana Savka, “Somewhere On The Shore Of Days”; tr. from the Ukrainian by Amelia Glaser and Yuliya Ilchuk

[redjaybathood]

Jason Todd - "Wings" by Lina Kostenko

"those who have wings don't need no soil"

Stephanie Brown - "As a child..." by Lesya Ukrainka

As not to cry, I laughed

Подобається?/Did you like it?

Шановне панство/My honorable community,

Я роблю мі��і-збір на драбину для Нікопольської пожежної машини. Моя ціль - це 5000 грн. Ці гроші 21 лютого будуть перераховані на загальну банку, про яку ви можете прочитати тут /I am doing a mini-fundraiser for Nikopol firefighting car's automatic ladder. Adding a bit of context for my international friends, Nikopol is constantly under attack and it also gets some International aid, but being a relatively small city, it's far away from enough. Ensuring the first responders have appropriate transportation and equipment means saving the lives of people whose homes got shelled. These funds (my goal is only 5000 UAH which is roughly 130 USD) will be transferred to the main fundraiser which you can read about here.

Я збираю в твітері, й хочу перевірити, чи мої підписники з тумблру можуть зібрати більше/I am already fundraising on twitter and just want to check whether my twitter or Tumblr followers will be more active in donating

Ось посилання на банку/here's a link for direct P2P card payments (but only in UAH tho)

https://send.monobank.ua/jar/4xMCTRPMrm

Кидайте скріншот донату й замовляйте персонажа DC comics і я підберу для них ві��ш з української поезії. / Send me a donation screenshot and order a character from DC Comics, for whom I will find a Ukrainian poem

[jameslmartello]

[snivel1]

You know that you are a human…

You know that you are a human.

You know that, or do you not?

That smile of yours is unique to you,

That torment of yours is unique to you,

Your eyes no other person has got.

Tomorrow you won’t be here present.

Tomorrow on this blessed land

Others’ll be running and laughing,

Others’ll be feeling and loving;

Good people and bad ones, my friend.

Today all the world is for you:

Forests and hills, valleys deep.

So hurry to live, please, hurry!

So hurry to love, please, hurry!

Don’t miss out on it, don’t oversleep!

���Cause you on this Earth are a human.

And whether you want it or not,

That smile of yours is unique to you,

That torment of yours is unique to you,

Your eyes no other person has got.

Author: Vasyl Symonenko

Translator: Kyrylo Snizhko