30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 30 - "Ars Poetica II,1"

Day 30, and what a journey it has been! Over the past month, the days have rapidly begun getting shorter, and the hot humid thunderstorms of summer have given way to crisper and mellower weather that hints at autumn. If we include today's post, we have read 30 poems and been introduced to 19 individuals from several generations of Ukrainian poets. Of those 19, a number were imprisoned or even killed for their work. Poetry is important everywhere, of course, but especially here in Ukraine. That is why our final two poems - 29 and 30 - are about poetry itself.

Time to meet this project's final poet: Bohdan-Igor Antonych. He grew up in the early 1900s in a mountainous region that spans parts of Poland, Slovakia, and Ukraine's Zakarpattia Oblast. He studied in Lviv, where he was active in poetry, music, and the visual arts, and was very prolific given his short life, prematurely cut off by appendicitis and pneumonia at the age of 28. He came of age shortly after Ukraine became part of the Soviet Union, and his poetry was therefore banned and hardly known by anyone until interest in it resurfaced with the dissident-intellectual movement of the 1960s, which we have heard much about through delving into the works of poets like Vasyl Symonenko, Lina Kostenko, and Vasyl Stus. Lucky for us, much of Bohdan-Igor's work has been translated into English. It reminds me quite a lot of one of my favorite poets, Hafiz, because of its high-flying and joyous spiritual nature.

Without further ado, our final poem of  30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry: 

ARS POETICA II, 1

Богдан Ігор Антонич

Я звичайний піїта,
кожний мене захоплює день.
Не розумію світа,
не розумію власних пісень.

Пити захват до краю…
Голос безжурний, немов цвіркуна,
От так собі співаю,
Тільки дзвенить на горах луна.

Захоплення початок,
релігії й сонетів;
захоплення нам родить
апостолів і поетів.

Не вмію писати віршів,
сміюся з правил і вимог.
Для мене поетику
складає сам Бог.

ARS POETICA II, 1

Bohdan-Igor Antonych 

Translated by Michael M. Naydan

I am an ordinary poet,
    each day fascinates me
    I do not understand the world, 
    I do not understand my own songs.

To drink ecstasy to the brim... 
    A carefree voice like a cricket
    this is the way I sing, 
    with just the echo still ringing in the mountains

The beginning of rapture, 
     of religion and sonnets;
     rapture gives birth to our apostles and poets

I do not know how to write poems, 
     I scoff at the rules and standards.
     For me it is God Himself
     who forms my poetics 

In 2009, in honor of the 100th anniversary of Bohdan-Ihor Antonych's birthday, there was a special performance put on in the Lviv Opera House that included music, dance, and readings of his poetry. Unfortunately the video footage of this event is rather poor, but it must have been amazing in person!

And that's a wrap! A huge thank you to everyone who has followed this project and sent encouragement. Through this dive into Ukrainian poetry, I've gotten much more meaning from the buildings and monuments that surround me. Now when I hear a name crop up on a walking tour, I often know something about the work and life of the person who has been mentioned.

I will be doing some thinking on how to continue exploring Ukrainian language and culture on this blog throughout the rest of my service - perhaps a poem of the month, or perhaps another poetry challenge come wintertime when I can finally enjoy all those verses about snow. I do also have some more material on contemporary Ukrainian music in the works, so stay tuned! Until then, it's time to return once again to more traditional modes of studying the language. After all the work that went into this month of blogging, I'm actually relieved at the idea of just doing tedious grammar exercises for a while!




The contents of this blog reflect my personal views and experiences only and are not indicative of the views of the Peace Corps or any other entity. 

30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 29 - "We're silent, poetry and I"

Here we are on this last day of August, which falls ever-so-perfectly on a Friday, and I am a day behind. No matter, it means we will have a two-poem day today to finish off this project, 30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry.

First - Day 29, which is happening on Day 30, which is happening on the 31st day of the month. Краще так, ніж ніяк. Both Day 29 and Day 30 are devoted to poems about poetry; about how and why people write poetry. It seems only fitting.

We started this poetry journey with Lina Kostenko, and it is to her we turn once again for this penultimate poem of the month. I hope to perhaps dive into some of her prose works now that I have finished my first major foray into Ukrainian literature. For those who wish to find her work in English, here is a bibliography of translations. You can find some collections on Amazon if you are willing to brave the occasional notices of "unavailable" or "out of print".

Lina Kostenko recently turned 88, and is still writing and teaching.

Ми мовчимо – поезія і я

Ліна Кстоенко 

Ми мовчимо — поезія і я.
Ми одна одній дивимось у вічі.
Вона не знає, як моє ім’я,—
мене немає в нашому сторіччі.

Я не зійшла, посіяна в бетон.
Не прийнялась, морозами прибита.
Я недоцільна — наче камертон
у кулаці кошлатого бандита.

We are silent - poetry and I

Lina Kostenko

We are silent - poetry and I
We look one another in the face
She does not know my name, -
I am not in our century.

I stay put, planted in concrete.
I haven't moved, held fast by frosts.
I don't quite fit - like a tuning fork
in the fist of a shaggy bandit.

The contents of this blog reflect my personal views and experiences only, and are not indicative of the views of the Peace Corps or any other entity. I need to put this note on here or I get in trouble. 

30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 28 - "Another"

Day 28 brings us another contemporary Ukrainian poet, and interestingly, one who has mostly stayed near to his native town, Kalush, rather than making the pilgrimage to Kyiv like so many others.

Growing up in what were still Soviet times, Yuriy Izdryk naturally worked for a while at a factory as an engineer. However, he had also started writing poetry in his teens, first in Russian and then in Ukrainian. In the same year that I was born, 1989, he started the journal "Chetver" (Thursday), for which he soon found a collaborator, Yuriy Andrukhovych. The two Yuriys served as co-editors, and had about them a small team for the journal, which ran until 2008. They published works mostly affiliated with what is called the "Stanislavsky Phenomenon", a post-modernist movement based in the western city of Ivano-Frankivsk.

(Remember who Ivano-Frankisvk is named after? Check back to Day 17 for a reminder)

 Apparently, some critics thought that Yuriy Izdryk didn't exist, and was just a pseudonym for Yuriy Andrukhovych. Interesting that in today's poem, Yuriy Izdryk brings up the idea that you need others around to you testify that you are real - that you exist.

Інший

Юрій Іздрик

людина сама нічого не може
людині завжди потрібен інший
на кого можна себе помножити
для кого варто писати вірші
з ким можна разом долати відчай
чи радість ділити не ризикуючи
хто може в будь-яку мить засвідчити
що ти – реальний що ти – існуєш
людина ж бо в себе не надто вірить
все свідка для себе шукає якогось
нема людини – спіймає звіра
не зловить звіра – віднайде бога
не знайде бога – візьме люстерко
та навіть там себе не впізнає
бо в сóбі бачить обличчя смерті
й не розуміє що смерті немає..
людина сама нічого не може –
ні народитись ні вмерти тихо
побудь же іншим мені мій боже
постій поблизу…
помовч…
подихай…

Another

Yuriy Izdryk

a person alone cannot do anything
a person always needs another
in whom they can multiply themselves
for whom it's worth writing verses
with whom they can together overcome despair
or share joy without risking
who can in any instant testify
that you are real - that you exist
a person does not much believe in themselves
they all look for a witness to their being
if there's not another person - catch a creature
not catching a creature, find God
not finding God - grab a mirror
and even there you won't recognize yourself
for in yourself you see the face of death
and you don't realize that death doesn't exist
a person alone cannot do anything
cannot be born, cannot quietly die
be to me, o God, that other
stand near me
quiet
and breathe 

I unfortunately got the title wrong in the video, as I was given this poem on a printout that included the text but no title. I figured it, like many poems with no given title, just used the first line as its name - but then when I searched for this poem online, I found out that there is, indeed, a title, and I like it quite a lot.

I haven't been able to locate any other readings of today's poem, but with Yuriy being a contemporary and living poet, there are plenty of videos of him reading his own verses. The one below is called, "This Time", and even though many of my friends won't understand the words, it's worth it to see the face and hear the voice of today's poet.

The content of this blog expresses my views alone and not those of the Peace Corps or any other entity. 

30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 27 - "Immigrant Zonh"

Day 27 and it's time to get back to that "bad boy" of contemporary Ukrainian poetry, Serhiy Zhadan. (The guy's been part of a band called "Dogs in Space", since updated to "Zhadan and the Dogs", he definitely deserves more than one entry). Quite a lot of his poetry has been translated into English, and I recommend finding it, but I keep getting drawn to some of his verses that haven't yet gotten that kind of attention.

That's our poet  - singing "I'm not an adherent of aesthetics, I'm a rock musician". 

Reading Zhadan's work is very different than reading earlier Ukrainian poetry, especially since so much of the earlier poetry I've found is very specifically about Ukraine. In contrast, his stuff is worldly, modern while still deeply set in place and time. He writes about other countries and foreign events, about booze and violence, about love; he writes kids' poems about cats (of course). He sometimes titles his poems in Ukrainianized English (when people write out English words with the Ukrainian alphabet - something surprisingly common). I was highly tempted to pick one with the title (written in Cyrillic with a Ukrainian accent): "New York - Fucking City".

But here we go with a poem whose title I can't even quite make sense of: "Immigrant Zonh". Does it mean Immigrant Zone? Immigrant Song, perhaps? A number of years after Serhiy wrote this poem, he did publish an essay called Immigrant Song, so maybe it's the latter. Him being a musician, maybe he took inspiration from Led Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song." But phonetically, it sounds like zone... maybe it is some reference I don't recognize. Anyway, this poem is included in Serhiy Zhadan's 2001 collection "Ballads of War and Reconstruction", and it hits hard.

імміґрант зонг

Сергій Жадан

немає нічого тривалішого за ці речі 
немає нічого ріднішого за ці муки 
на виїзді з міста сніг ляже на плечі 
торкнувшись йому лиця наче жіночі руки

дорогою перегоном котиться поїзд на захід 
плачуть губні гармонії з адресами сірниками 
плач повоєнна європо хай будуть тобі мов закид 
сумні чоловічі бари набиті мандрівниками

бо він уже не повернеться навіть коли захоче 
вода усіх океанів йому вимиває очі 
бо він не приїде назад і що з нього можна взяти 
серед блаженної пам’яті червоних п’ятдесятих

окрім готичних контурів завчених ним абеток 
окрім гранат і листівок окрім птахів таблеток 
пам’ять про нього дбає пам’ять рахує лічить 
в одну й ту саму ріку снаряд не влучає двічі

вулиця затихає здригаються пальці посуд 
смирення втрапляє в тіло мов пробиває вістрям 
коли приходить смерть коли зостається осад 
коли останнє ім’я видихуєш разом з повітрям

бо смерть наче білий цукор обліплює зуби ясна 
зі смертю приходить терпіння спускається і дається 
і починається тиша тиша раптова вчасна 
в якій не чути нічого навіть власного серця

Immigrant Zonh

Serhiy Zhadan

there is nothing that goes on longer than these things

nothing more deeply rooted than these miseries

on the way out of the city snow falls on his shoulders

touching his face like the hands of a woman

along the road, between stations the train rolls west

labial harmonies cry with addresses, matches
let this cry, o post-war Europe, be for you a reproach
sad men's bars packed with wanderers

because he will never return even when he wants to
the water of all the oceans washes his eyes
because he will not come back and what can be taken from him
among blissful memories of the red fifties

except the gothic conours of the alphabets he's assimilated
except grenades postcards except birds pills 
memory looks after him memory counts enumerates
the shell doesn't hit twice in the same river

the road fades fingers rattle the dishes
meekness enters the body as if piercing with a spike
when death comes when the dregs are left
when you last exhale your name together with air

because death like white sugar covers teeth and gums
with death comes patience it descends and is given
and the silence begins silence suddenly timely
in which there's nothing to hear not even your own heart

As you can probably tell, I have translated this poem literally rather than poetically, almost word by word, because that's what it took for me to understand it at all (and some of it may not be 100% correct... this poem was a stretch for me). I think with its lack of punctuation and unorthodox sentence structure it would be hard even for native speakers - or at least I'll tell myself that. I read somewhere recently that even a bad translation of a well-written poem is better than a wonderful translation of something mediocre, and this one was definitely worth the effort.

Time to digest this poem for a while before getting back to listening to Dogs in Space.




The views and experiences shared in this blog are mine alone and not indicative of the views of the Peace Corps or any other entity. 

30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 26 - "Sharp Eyes Open into the Dark"

Hello there, Day 26! Although we are in the final few days of this challenge, there are still many poets I have not found out about. I made a point today of finding somebody whose work I haven't read yet, and some googling led me to Olena Teliha. I was reading a list of Ukrainian women poets, and recognized her name because I think I have somewhere seen a street named after her, although I don't recall exactly when or where.

Olena Teliha did a lot of moving around in her life. She was born in Russia to a Ukrainian-Belorussian family, lived at various times in Poland (both in Warsaw and in Krakow) and also in what was at the time Czechoslovakia. She met her death in Kyiv, where she had secretly moved while it was under German occupation during World War II. Like many Ukrainian poets, she was killed - although not by Soviet authorities, but rather by the Nazis. She and her fellow writers publishing illegally in Kyiv were all rounded up and arrested in an ambush by the Gestapo. Her husband wasn't a writer - he was an engineer - but he lied and said he was a writer so that he could be taken with her. The date of their death isn't known for sure, but given the number of Ukrainian writers massacred at Babi Yar, a ravine-turned-mass-grave on the edge of Kyiv, in February 1942, February 21st has been established as a day to honor and remember Olena Teliha and her husband.

Below you can see footage of a remembrance ceremony in Kyiv by a monument to Olena Teliha, and also some archival footage from her life.

According to a bibliography of translations published in the online journal Ukrainian Literature, an English translation of today's poem exists in the anthology A Hundred Years of Youth: A bilingual anthology of 20th century Ukrainian poetry. Unfortunately, I have no way to access this translation without buying a print copy of the book, and even doing that seems difficult. It's not on Amazon, and no sellers are listed by Google Books. It seems the best way to get at it would be to go to a library in Germany or Poland, but that certainly isn't happening today. Anyway, in the Google Books preview I can at least see the first two lines of the poem, and it looks like it is probably a good translation. The title they give is somewhat different than my more literally translated one, but I don't wish to copy them, so I'm sticking with my own, less poetic rendition. Even in a choppy translation that lacks the rhyme of the Ukrainian original, it is still a powerful piece.

Гострi очi розкритi в морок

Олена Теліга

Гострi очi розкритi в морок,
Б'є годинник: чотири, п'ять…
Моє серце в гарячих зморах,
Я й сьогоднi не можу спать.

Але завтра спокiйно встану,
Так, як завжди, без жодних змiн,
I в життя, як в безжурний танок,
Увiйду до нiчних годин.

Придушу свiй невпинний спогад.
Буду радiсть давати й смiх.
Тiльки тим дана перемога,
Хто й у болi смiятись змiг!

Sharp Eyes Open into the Dark

Olena Teliha 

Sharp eyes open in the dark,
The click is ticking: four, five...
My heart is in hot nightmares,
Again today I cannot sleep.

But tomorrow I will calmly get up,
Yes, like always, without any changes,
And to life, like to a carefree dance,
I will go until the evening hours.

I will suppress my ceaseless memory.
I will give joy and laughter.
Victory is given only to those
Who can laugh through the pain!

The views and experiences expressed in this blog are mine alone and are not indicative of the views of Peace Corps, the US government, or the government of Ukraine. 

30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 25 - "By the Khreshchatyk Metro"

Day 25, and we're in the final stretch of 30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry! I feel like I'm going to have to go back through and read all these poems again so I can remember them.

In the meantime, there are still a few more days ahead of poetry - including today, of course. Today I'm sharing a poem I picked out a while back and saved for a day when I'd be able to read it on site, in the very place it describes. It's by poet Vasyl Stus. I got a strong notion in my head about a week and a half ago that I wanted to share something by him, but I haven't gotten to it until now because some of his stuff is rather complicated (although today's is pretty simple in terms of language).

Vasyl Stus was an active member of the dissident intelligentsia that was both very active in the 1960s, and heavily persecuted. He wrote many of his poems from Soviet forced labor camps where he was sent as punishment several times, and where he eventually died due to the inhumane conditions. He is quoted as equating life in the Soviet Union with slavery.

While many of his poems reflect the harsh reality of life in the gulag, today's verse is from happier times in Kyiv: a short little portrait of daily life in the city. I love that in his poem he appreciates what he sees without romanticizing or glamorizing it; he just recognizes and shares the life around him in a way that is vivid and beautiful simply as it is.

Бiля метро “Хрещатик” 

Василь Стус

Бiля метро “Хрещатик” 
щоранку зупиняється 
дитячий вiзок. 
Двiрничка вибирає з чавунних урн 
накиданий мотлох — 
старi газети, ганчiр'я, 
коробки з-пiд сiрникiв, недокурки, 
навантажить ними вiзок 
i сквером каштанiв рушає далi. 
А сьогоднi, напередоднi свята, 
вона вбрала найкращу спiдницю з сатину, 
новенькi черевики й фуфайку, 
навiть вiзок прикрасила 
штучними квiтами з поролону. 
Усмiшка й задума на її обличчi 
творить рiвновагу щастя. 

By the Khreshchatyk Metro

Vasyl Stus

Every morning
a children's stroller stops
by the Khreshchatyk Metro.
The groundskeeper selects discarded junk
from the metal trash cans - 
empty  matchboxes, cigarette butts, 
she loads these onto her cart
and moves along across the square beneath the chestnut trees.
Today is the day before a holiday,
and she has dressed in her finest satin skirt, 
new boots and a sweater, 
she has even decorated her stroller
with artificial foam flowers. 
The smile and thoughtfulness on her face
create a balance of happiness. 

Since I was in Kyiv today, I was able to head to the metro station described in this poem, and do my reading there.

And here is another reading, this time by Vitaliy Linetsky.

Greetings from Kyiv! Tomorrow I'll be back downriver a ways, at site and ready to finish out our month of poetry in the coming days.




The content of this blog reflects my personal views and experiences only and not those of Peace Corps or the governments of the US or Ukraine. 

30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 24 - "Love Ukraine"

How is it already Day 24?

Soon this 30-Day Challenge will be finished! But not yet - we have some very important poems to go, and quite a famous one for today. I mentioned in Day 20's blog how poet Volodymyr Sosiura seemed to constantly be toeing the line between being lauded and being in trouble, since he was writing during times of fluctuating levels of repression and censorship by the Soviet government. Nature poems like the one we read on Day 20 were safe, but the poem below certainly did not please the censors of the USSR and those authorities who favored cracking down on Ukrainian nationalism.

Любіть Україну!

  Володимир Сосюра

Любіть Україну, як сонце, любіть,
як вітер, і трави, і води…
В годину щасливу і в радості мить,
любіть у годину негоди.


Любіть Україну у сні й наяву,
вишневу свою Україну,
красу її, вічно живу і нову,
і мову її солов’їну. 


Без неї — ніщо ми, як порох і дим,
розвіяний в полі вітрами…
Любіть Україну всім серцем своїм
і всіма своїми ділами.


Для нас вона в світі єдина, одна
як очі її ніжно-карі…
Вона у зірках, і у вербах вона,
і в кожному серця ударі,


у квітці, в пташині, в кривеньких тинах,
у пісні у кожній, у думі,
в дитячий усмішці, в дівочих очах
і в стягів багряному шумі…


Як та купина, що горить — не згора,
живе у стежках, у дібровах,
у зойках гудків, і у хвилях Дніпра,
і в хмарах отих пурпурових,
 

в огні канонад, що на захід женуть
чужинців в зелених мундирах,
в багнетах, що в тьмі пробивали нам путь
до весен і світлих, і щирих.


Юначе! Хай буде для неї твій сміх,
і сльози, і все до загину…
Не можна любити народів других,
коли ти не любиш Вкраїну!..

 
Дівчино! Як небо її голубе,
люби її кожну хвилину…
Коханий любить не захоче тебе,
коли ти не любиш Вкраїну…


Любіть у труді, у коханні, в бою,
в цей час, як гудуть батареї.
Всім серцем любіть Україну свою —
і вічні ми будемо з нею!

 Love Ukraine!

Volodymyr Sosiura

Love your Ukraine, love as you would the sun,
The wind, the grasses and the streams together…
Love her in happy hours, when joys are won,
And love her in her time of stormy weather.


Love her in happy dreams and when awake,
Ukraine in spring’s white cherry-blossom veil.
Her beauty is eternal for your sake ;
Her speech is tender with the nightingale.

 
As in a garden of fraternal races,
She shines above the ages. Love Ukraine
With all your heart, and with exultant faces
Let all your deeds her majesty maintain.
 

For us she rides alone on history’s billows,
In the sweet charm of space she rules apart,
For she is in the stars, is in the willows,
And in each pulse-beat of her people’s heart,


In flowers and tiny birds, and lights that shine,
In every epic and in every song,
In a child’s smile, in maidens’ eyes divine,
And in the purple flags above the throng…

 
Youth ! For her sake give your approving laughter,
Your tears, and all you are until you die…
For other races you’ll not love hereafter
Unless you love Ukraine and hold her high.

 
Young woman ! As you would her sky of blue,
Love her each moment that your days remain.
Your sweetheart will not keep his love for you,
Unless he knows you also love Ukraine.

 
Love her in love, in labour, and in fight,
As if she were a song at heaven’s portal…
Love her with all your heart and all your might,
And with her glory we shall be immortal.

I really wanted to get my reading of this right, since it's such an important poem, but alas - sometimes in life we can only get so far in one day, and after multiple takes I'm still having to post a reading in which I trip over a few words. It's motivation for me to keep practicing. Also, after many close calls, I actually did get the day wrong on this one. It was bound to happen.

As I keep working on reading this myself, there are plenty of great recordings to listen to as practice and inspiration! First - a classic by Vasyl Bukolyk.

And, of course, a song. This one is by a traditional folk choir.

The views and experiences expressed in this blog are mine alone and are not indicative of the views of Peace Corps or the governments of the US or Ukraine.

30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 23 - "Wagon"

I started Independence Day with my old friend Ukrzaliznytsia, the Ukrainian railway service, to head up to Kyiv for an Independence Day concert from Dakha Brakha and Okean Elzy (check out my "Muscial Postcard from Ukraine" to find some of their songs). While there is much more to tell about today than just the train ride, it was the train ride I was waiting for to share a little poem I found early on in this project and have been saving.

I looked up the poems of Mykhaylo Semenko on a coworker's recommendation, and one of the first ones I found was "Вагон" (Wagon). This is the word used in Ukrainian to refer to a train car; you may be in a first class wagon, a second class wagon, etc. When you board the train you need to know your wagon number. I knew as soon as I read the first line of this short poem that I wanted to share it, but I also wanted to wait until I could read it on a train, so I've shared some of his other poems on Day 3 and Day 19.

Anyone who's traveled by train in Ukraine knows the struggle of the hot, unventilated train cars. Imagine spending 12 hours traveling with 30 other people in a metal box. In all likelihood, almost none of the windows open. If you're lucky, some of them might, but if you try to open one, the second you turn your back somebody will close it again because of a belief that a breeze blowing in through a window will make you sick. So, seeing the first line "a wagon without windows", I knew this little poem was perfect for my fellow travelers. It's nice to know that even famous poets from decades ago share our frustration. 

Ваґон

Михайло Семенко

Ваґон без вікон
подорож прикра
експресить гінко
розбита скрипка

і стиха стежить
хтось із кутка
огидливий нежит
хриплість гудка

Wagon

Mykhaylo Semenko

 

A wagon without windows

This journey sucks.

Expressions of ginkos

A broken violin

And secretly, somebody

Watches from the corner

A disgusting, stuffy nose

The wheezing of a gudok

Note: a gudok is an ancient, East Slavic stringed instrument. Also, I had to totally guess on the third line because I couldn't find this word "експресить" anywhere. If anyone has an idea of how to better translate this line, please let me know!

Fun factoid: I was twice crashed into by somebody coming through the door behind me while filming this.

Cheers to you, Ukrzaliznytsia!

30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 22 - "The Glory and the Freedom of Ukraine Has Not Yet Perished"

Hello on this fine Day 22! As you may have noticed by the appearance for the first time in a while of a more typical, non-poetry-related blog entry, today is Flag Day in Ukraine, and tomorrow starts off the three-day Independence Day weekend. So, in lieu of finding a poem to read, I decided to sing the national anthem. Like our own US anthem, the Ukrainian anthem is a poem that somebody other than the author then set to music, and which later on was adopted as the national anthem. Also like the US anthem, usually only the first part of the poem is sung.

The author of the text, Pavlo Chubynskiy, allegedly wrote the text in half an hour while at a party. The story goes that some Serbian students studying in Kyiv had sung a patriotic song at this party, which inspired Pavlo. He immediately hopped into an adjacent room and wrote this poem that, more than a hundred years later, would become Ukraine's national anthem. The words have several times been changed slightly for the official version of the anthem, and I still get confused occasionally on which version is the "correct" version.

Ще не вмерла України

Павло Чубинський

Ще не вмерла України ні слава, ні воля,
Ще нам, браття-українці, усміхнеться доля.
Згинуть наші вороженьки, як роса на сонці,
Запануємо ми, браття, у своїй сторонці.

Душу, тіло ми положим за нашу свободу
І покажем, що ми, браття, козацького роду.

Станем, браття, в бій кривавий від Сяну до Дону,
В ріднім краї панувати не дамо нікому.
Чорне море ще всміхнеться, дід Дніпро зрадіє.
Ще у нашій Україні доленька наспіє.

Душу, тіло ми положим за нашу свободу
І покажем, що ми, браття, козацького роду.

А завзяття, праця щира ще свого докаже,
Ще ся волі в Україні піснь гучна розляже,
За Карпати відіб’ється, згомонить степами,
України слава стане поміж народами.

Душу, тіло ми положим за нашу свободу
І покажем, що ми, браття, козацького роду.

The Glory and the Freedom of Ukraine Have Not Yet Died*

Pavlo Chubynskiy

Translation by Andrea Wenglowskyj

Ukraine has not yet died, nor her glory, nor her freedom,
Upon us, fellow Ukrainians, fate shall smile once more.
Our enemies will vanish like dew in the sun,
And we too shall rule, brothers, in a free land of our own.

Souls and bodies we'll lay down, all for our freedom,
And we'll show that we, brothers, are of the Cossack nation!

We'll stand, brothers, in bloody battle, from the Syan to the Don,
We will not allow others to rule in our motherland.
The Black Sea will smile and grandfather Dnieper will rejoice,
For in our own Ukraine fortune shall shine again.

Souls and bodies we'll lay down, all for our freedom,
And we'll show that we, brothers, are of the Cossack nation!

Our persistence and our sincere toils will be rewarded,
And freedom's song will throughout all of Ukraine resound.
Echoing off the Carpathians, and across the steppes rumbling,
Ukraine's fame and glory will be known among all nations.

Souls and bodies we'll lay down, all for our freedom,
And we'll show that we, brothers, are of the Cossack nation!

*This translation goes by an older version of the text than what was officially adopted as the national anthem. The words have been changed slightly, so that instead of the first line meaning "Ukraine has not yet died, nor have glory and freedom", it instead means "the glory and freedom of Ukraine have not yet died". I used the title of the national anthem here, although the translator uses the older title "Ukraine Has Not Yet Died". There are many good English translations to choose from, based on various Ukrainian versions that differ slightly from one another, so I recommend you go a-googling if you want to find out more.

Now for my rusty, smoke-inhibited singing. Someone is always burning something somewhere around here, unfortunately. The upward angle from my iPhone is certainly not flattering for the somewhat awkward act of singing, and I apologize to all my former choir directors for how loudly I am breathing. That said, I love singing this anthem. I join in every time I hear it (which is quite often, as I live near the main square). I've often found myself stopping in the middle of what I'm doing in the kitchen if I hear it play, so I can stand at the window and look out at whatever assembly of people has gathered and sing along.

And now for a grander, more polished rendition: footage from last year's Independence Day parade in Kyiv. I feel it's impossible not to feel inspired watching it.

Вітаю всім з днем прапора - і завтра, з днем незалежності!
A happy Flag Day and Independence Day to all!

З днем прапора! Блог про сино-жовтий. Happy Flag Day! A blog about blue and yellow.

It's Flag Day in Ukraine! While in the US our Flag Day is usually just some words on a calendar, in Ukraine it's a fairly big deal. This morning out my window I could see a big assembly on the main square, flags everywhere. A parade of cars honking their horns and flying the flag followed a blue and yellow "Slava Ukraini!" van around the block. The national anthem rang out across city center.

I decided months ago that I wanted to write a blog about Ukraine's flag and national colors, but it turned out to be a more ambitious undertaking than I expected. In the end it worked out for the better, because taking my time meant I could finish the blog for Flag Day.

Ukraine may be the only place I have been where people are even more devoted to their flag and national colors than US Americans are. The simple motif of blue and yellow is ubiquitous; on the flag, of course, but also in signage, walls, advertisements, even graffiti. I'm convinced that anything that could possibly be made blue and yellow has, somewhere in Ukraine, been made blue and yellow.

The idea for this blog came to me as I was starting a rather long walk across town to my friend's place. I decided to photograph as many blue and yellow things as I could on my way, and almost as soon as I left my building, I had my first subjects: the yellow snack shop and blue shoe repair just outside my building, followed by blue and yellow poles that I assume are meant to keep people from driving into the grassy part of the yard.

By the time I crossed a street or two, I passed some blue and yellow gates, and blue and yellow construction walls.

Once I started looking for blue and yellow, I saw even more of it than I expected. Blue and yellow show up together in shop window displays, for example, and in advertisements.

Note the blue and yellow marshrutka reflected in the window of the blue and yellow shop display

Even the most utilitarian things, like waste bins, may as well be blue and yellow; while bus stops provide the chance to make something more elaborate.

I was on a roll with this idea for a blog about blue and yellow, but then I hit a block. I needed to know the right way and order in which to say the colors, in both Ukrainian and English. In the USA, you would never hear anybody say, "White, blue, and red" in reference to the US flag. It's always "red, white, and blue". And to complicate matters further, Ukraine has three words for the color "blue" - синий (syniy) indicating a darker or brighter blue, and блакитний (blakytniy) and голубий (holubiy) for a lighter or paler blue.

I googled a phrase I recalled having heard before, сино-жовтий (syno-zhovtiy, or blue-yellow), to see if it was correct, and in doing so came across another variation: жовто-блакитний (zhovto-blakytniy, or yellow-blue). Not only did the two names use different words for blue, but they were in a different order! I figured a quick poll of my Ukrainian friends would clear the matter up, so I posed the question on Facebook and ended up starting quite a back-and-forth in the comments. As it turns out, the apparently simple Ukrainian flag has a lot of complex history, and as with any symbol, discussions of its meaning and origin don't yield a clear consensus. If you start digging into Ukrainian-language resources, you can find a rather heated discussion in articles and opinion pieces in which some people claim that the Ukrainian flag has been flipped upside down (variously blaming Nazi sympathizers, communists, or simple mysteries of history for the reversal), while others respond with articles targeting "myths about the Ukrainian flag" and arguing that it is, in fact, as it should be.

After more internet research than I ever thought I would do about a simple, two-color national flag, here's what I've pieced together about it:

The colors 

Many scholars trace Ukraine's national colors back to the kingdom of Galicia-Volhynia, which rose to prominence after the fall of Kyivan-Rus, the Slavic federation that reached its height in the 11th century and to which Ukraine, Russia, and Belarus all trace their origins. Galycia-Volhynia encompassed what is today northwestern Ukraine, as well as parts of Poland and Belarus, and included such Ukrainian cities as Lutsk and Lviv. Scholars often reference the golden lion and blue background of the flag of Galicia-Volynia when digging into the origins of Ukraine's current flag.

A variation of this flag was flown by Lviv's forces on the Polish-Lithuanian side of the historic Battle of Grunwald against Germanic Teutonic crusaders in 1410.

The golden lion on a blue background was still going strong in the 1800s when a wave of revolutions, the "Spring of Nations", swept across Europe in 1848 and people fought to replace monarchies with nation-states. Among the empires most affected was Hapsburg Austria-Hungary, which controlled Poland and western Ukraine. In 1848 Ukrainians under Hapsburg rule formed their own Supreme Council, which demanded that Ukrainian territories be united into one province and governed separately from Polish ones. They promoted the use of Ukrainian language in schools and local government, chose the the golden lion as their coat of arms, and determined that blue and yellow were the national colors of Ukraine. They did not, however, specify that they be organized or listed in a particular order. The collective "they" of the internet say that the blue-yellow combination became popular across both Austrian- and Russian-controlled Ukrainian lands over the following decades.


The Switch Story

One can find a handful of articles claiming that the Ukrainian flag was once yellow on top and blue on bottom, with various explanations of how it may have been switched.

Given the limited amount of research I have the time and energy to do for this blog, it seems to me that much of the confusion lies in the tumultuous time period between World War I and World War II. At the time of World War I, Ukraine's territory had been split for some time between the Russian Empire in the east and the Austro-Hungarian Empire in the west. After World War I, both empires were falling and both saw independence movements rise up among Ukrainians ready to seize the opportunity. Ukrainian activists on both sides formed self-proclaimed autonomous Ukrainian states: the Ukrainian People's Republic in Russian-controlled territories, and the Western Ukrainian People's Republic in Austro-Hungarian controlled territories. Wikipedia (ever-so-reliable, I know) shows each of these self-proclaimed republics having a blue-yellow flag, but there's a commonly told story that at this time Ukrainians were actually flying a yellow-blue flag, and it was switched to blue-yellow under the not-super-popular hetman Павло Скоропадський (Pavlo Skoropadsky). One Ukrainian editorial writer claims that the first leader of the Ukrainian People's Republic, Mikhailo Hrushevsky, determined the flag would be yellow-blue, and highlights the usage of a yellow-blue flag by Ukrainian troops in World War I. This writer attributes the switch to a blue-yellow flag to the controversial activist Stepan Bandera, who used a blue-yellow flag in the movements he led for Ukrainian independence in the 1920s and 1930s. However, this same writer also tries to explain why the current blue-yellow flag is "wrong" by interpreting it via Chinese hexagrams, and seems to promote a narrative that ties Ukrainian nationalism to fascism, a common Russian trope. In other words, there are lots of stories floating around about this flag, and there's a whole Internet rabbit hole to go down. What seems to be most plausible is that, given there were multiple groups fighting for Ukrainian independence, that they had multiple variations of a similar flag. The handy graphic below shows its progression - including the switch.

Source: Ukrinform 

Adoption of the current flag
The constitution of Ukraine now clearly lists the description of the flag using the phrase сино-жовтий, so сино-жовтий it is. The flag wasn't adopted immediately after independence in 1991, as Ukraine did already have a flag from its time as the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic. However, the flag that had long been flown by Ukrainian nationalists was finally officially adopted in 1992. It's easy to remember which color goes on top, because all you have to do is look at a field of wheat or sunflowers and see blue sky over yellow fields.

Now that we know more about Ukraine's flag and national colors, it's time to enjoy more of the ridiculous number of photos I have taken of blue and yellow things in Ukraine - and this isn't even half of them.

US and Ukrainian flag cornhole on 4th of July!

Outdoor shelter at a village sports field

Graffiti somewhere in Kyiv

Office building by the mall. This is, incidentally, where I found the kitten y'all have been hearing about.

Forget the white picket fence. In Ukraine it's all about the blue and yellow picket fence. 

A tiny Ukrainian flag atop a random Eiffel tower in a small western village

I had a Titanic moment on a river cruise in my city

Building entrance in Kyiv

The local water tower

A blue-yellow grand opening at the new blue and yellow pharmacy!

This other blue and yellow pharmacy has already been around a while

A rare green marshrutka - but note the blue and yellow stripe!

Blue and yellow playground equipment

Blue and yellow at a memorial to soldiers fallen in the still-ongoing conflict with Russia

A local trolleybus sporting a flag for Flag Day. The whole fleet has them! 

Flag Day celebration

Happy Flag Day, Ukraine! З Днем Прапора, Україно! 

30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 21 - An Ironic Nocturne

Day 21.

Today, I was waiting outside the office, relaxing for a while before heading in to give a presentation. I gazed up at the birch trees for a bit, and the receptionist came out to ask me what I was looking at.
The trees.
I told her about this poetry project, and how yesterday's poem mentioned maples swaying in the breeze (although I forgot the Ukrainian word for swaying. That will have to go on a flashcard). We don't necessarily need poetry to remind us to look at the trees, but it can certainly help. Making a practice of reading poetry does seem to be affecting my life in these little ways.

Today I googled some women Ukrainian poets to continue broadening my horizons, and I found Oksana Zabuzhko. A skim of her Wikipedia bio reveals repeated use of the word "intellectual". This makes me feel better about understanding almost none of the poems of hers I have glanced at. They're tough. And it seems like she's tough. Her parents were also writers, and during her early childhood they were persecuted as Leonid Brezhnev became leader of the USSR and banned publications in Ukrainian. Oksana's first collection of poetry was already set for publication, when her parents were blacklisted and the publication halted. She was only 12 or 13 at the time, and those early verses of hers were never published.

Tonight's poem (for it is indeed night now, and the poem is about night) is among her shortest from what I can tell, and it is so familiar. I can look out my balcony window right now and see this poem - although perhaps Kyiv, with all its giant murals, would come even closer. Given that her family moved to Kyiv when persecution forced them from their native Lutsk, I suppose that makes sense.

Іронічний Ноктюрн

Оксана Забужко

Ґумкою місяця стерто кути:
Ніч — мир безвинним і винним.
Ліфти, асфальти, мури й коти
Всоталися в сну драговиння.
І ніби хтось шепче: усе це пусте,
От дай тільки Боже заснути…
І сняться ліфтам будинки без стель
І троси, у небо напнуті,
Розтріслим асфальтам — як дощ полива,
А чорним котам — ворожбити,
А кожному муру — якась голова,
Спроможна його пробити…

An Ironic Nocturne

Oksana Zabuzhko

Translation: Virlana Tkacz and Wanda Phipps

Moonlight rounds the edges. 
Night brings peace to the guilty and the innocent. 
Elevators, sidewalks, walls and cats 
Knee-deep in sleep. 
Someone whispers: "To hell with everything, Lord, just give me sleep..." 
Elevators dream of buildings without ceilings 
And cables that stretch into the sky, 
Cracked pavements dream of rain, 
Black cats dream of sorcerers. 
But every wall dreams of the one head 
That can finally bang its way through it...

Thank God somebody has already done a good English translation of this poem, because I was really struggling. I was getting there in terms of understanding this little piece, but it would have taken a while. Now I know how to say "Дай тільки Боже заснути", which I have a feeling will come in handy.

And now a lovely reading by a native speaker whose piano and choice of black and white I unironically appreciate.

The contents of this blog reflect my personal views and experiences only and are not indicative of the views of Peace Corps or the US or Ukrainian governments.