30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 8 - "Lesya Ukrainka"

Hello again! Day 8 brings us into the second week of 30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry, so I decided it's time to get a little meta. Today's piece was written by one Ukrainian poet about another: Vasyl Symonenko, born in the 1930s and part of the dissident movement in the 1960s, wrote a poem titled "Lesya Ukrainka", after the poet from one generation earlier (turn of the 19th-20th century) whose work is featured on Day 4 of this challenge.

Vasyl Symonenko, I was interested to find out, spent a fair bit of time in my region of the country. He worked for several newspapers in Cherkasy Oblast, and died a young, tragic death in the small city of Smila. Already ailing from cancer, Vasyl was beaten by Soviet operatives at the very railway station I stop through on nearly all of my train trips (to get even more meta - the train station is named after poet Taras Shevchenko). Vasyl later died from his injuries at the local hospital. He was the same age I am now - 28.

Shevchenko Station, Smila. Photo from a Wikipedia article that appears to be written in Latvian. 

Vasyl Symonenko's poem about Lesya Ukrainka seems to be to be one of admiration and empathy. Although he describes her as "sickly" - she had tuberculosis of the bone - he conjures up images of great strength; of a warrior, even. This has been the toughest poem for me thus far in terms of complexity of language and imagery. It took a lot of googling and a lot of practice to get through it - but the story of Ukrainian poetry and the people behind it that is gradually piecing together is totally worth the effort.

Леся Українка

Василь Симоненко

Десь вітер грає на віолончелі,
Морозні пальці приклада до скла,
І ти одна в зажуреній оселі
Замріяно схилилась до стола.

Мов раб німий на араратській скелі
Карбує написи про подвиги царя,
Ти на папері почуттів моря
Переливаєш в строфи невеселі.

Ти - хвора дівчина - серед глухої ночі
Врізаєш в вічність огненні, пророчі
Слова з прийдешніх сонячних віків,

Щоб ті слова хитали чорні трони,
Щоб їх несли з собою легіони
Нових, непереможних Спартаків.

Lesya Ukrainka

Vasyl Symonenko

Somewhere the wind plays the cello, 
Frosty fingers attach to the glass,
And you, alone in a sorrowful village, 
Dreamily lean toward the table. 

Like a silent slave on the rocks of Ararat
Inscribes the feats of the King, 
You onto paper - feelings of the sea 
Pour forth into unhappy stanzas. 

You - sickly girl - in deaf night
Carve into eternity fiery, prophetic
Words from coming, sunny ages

So that these words shake black thrones
So that they bring with them legions
Of new, invincible Spartans. 

A note on the translation - I struggled a bit with this one, and there are certain words or phrases that I am not 100% confident about. However, I still feel it is accurate enough to publish here. Insight welcome if you can help me improve this translation.  

Since the poem mentions Lesya working at her table in the dark of night, I figured I'd do the same. The candlelight effect doesn't look as nice as I'd hoped (it's kind of scary, even) but perhaps this unglamorous imperfection suits the poem.

I've found no other readings or videos to share with you for this one, unfortunately, but that makes me glad I'm sharing this poem here!




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