30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 20 - "I love when Spring dresses the trees"

Oh my, we are almost to Week 3! The weather has thankfully cooled off a bit and this late-August weather is lovely, so today we have a poem celebrating nature and the beauty of life in all four seasons.

This is the second poem I've featured from Volodymyr Sosiura, whose work I first read for Day 15 of this 30-Day Challenge. From what I've read of his work so far, his poetry is full of artistic and figurative language, which to me seems an interesting contrast to a dramatic life he spent carefully toeing the line between love for Ukraine, and loyalty (sometimes true, sometimes forced) to the Soviet Union once it was established. He was taken as a prisoner of war when fighting for Ukrainian independence in the chaotic years after the Bolshevik Revolution, sentenced to death, and then escaped and joined the Red Army. His poetry was popular in the 20s and 30s, and he alternated between being lauded with awards such as the prestigious Stalin Prize, and being criticized for being too nationalistic. He was even sent to a factory for "reeducation". Interesting to imagine what all must have been in the head and heart of this guy writing such delicate poems about nature while navigating the forces that brought both the rise of the USSR and the death and persecution of so many Ukrainians.

Я люблю, коли в листя зелене

Володимир Сосюра

Я люблю, коли в листя зелене
дерева одягає весна,
і під вітром хитаються клени,
і співає в квітках далина.

Ще задумані далі безкраї
зачаровують душу мою,
коли жито в полях достигає
і зозуля кує у гаю.

І так гарно під небом глибоким
на дніпрову дивитись блакить,
як під вітру задуманим кроком
жовте листя в садах шарудить…

Ще люблю голубу й неозору,
сонцебарвну снігів далину
і на шибках морозні узори,
що нагадують серцю весну.

I love when spring dresses the trees

Volodymyr Sosiura

I love when spring dresses the trees
in leaves of green
and maples sway in the breeze,
and in the flowers, beauty sings. 

And the limitless planted expanses 
Entrance my soul,
When rye ripens in the fields
And the cuckoo calls in the grove. 

And beneath the deep sky, how lovely
to look across Dnipro at the blue,
how by steps in the wind, thoughtfully,
yellow leaves in the yards rustle, too. 

I love, too, the light blue and vast, 
sun-painted snows ever-stretching,
and on the windows patterns of frost, 
that remind my heart spring is coming. 

I guess I felt like rhyming today, so I tweaked the word order in a few places to make the English translation sound at least somewhat as nice as the Ukrainian original. Sosiura's use of figurative language and metaphor made this poem a little tough for me to translate. I would love to talk over it with somebody to get a better understanding of the artistry in the language.

30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 19 - "Forgotten Shadows"

Greetings on this fine Day 19! (or night... it's past my bedtime here). Anyway, given that yesterday's featured poet wrote his dissertation about Mykhaylo Semenko, it seems only fair that we ourselves give the rebellious Semenko another look.

No energy for long commentaries here - let's get straight to the poem! You can read more about Semenko in Day 3's post if you want some more context.

Тіні забуті

Михайло Семенко

Хмари над лісом пливуть в далину,

Вітер свистить свою пісню сумну.

Чую в тій бучі забуті слова,

Часу далекого мла вікова.

В річці над лісом тим плесо чорніє.

Млин розвалився, в воді сутеніє.

Чую я пісню — тужне голосіння,

Скрізь розлилося таємне зомління.

Що то за тіні? В час опівночі

В небі я бачу заплакані очі.

Хмарами котяться хвилі бліді,

Морщаться кола у темній воді.

Forgotten Shadows

Mykhaylo Semenko

Above the forest, clouds float in the distance,

The wind its sad song whistles.

I hear in that sound forgotten words,

of a distant time, ageless murk.

In the river above that forest the slow сurrent blackens.

The mill has fallen apart, the water with dusk darkens.

I hear a song - a mourning wail, wistful,

A dark syncope has everywhere spilled.

What's that behind the shadows? At midnight 

In the sky I see tear-stained eyes.

Pale waves roll through the clouds, 

Circles wrinkle the dark water. 

I would love to film my reading of this poem outside on this cool summer evening, but as I've already gotten into my pajamas and my camera doesn't work well in the dark, the balcony will have to do. I feel like this poem describes something I've felt many times, listening to the wind through the eucalyptus trees back home when moonlit nights left me feeling wistful for something unknown and ancient-feeling. I don't love my reading of this, but it took a good twenty takes to get it because of the noisy motorcycles roaring up the boulevard, and the cat jumping on my laptop and phone several times. This will have to do.

It seems suiting that something by Mykhaylo Semenko would be performed by a rock band named after Ukraine's first utopic science-fiction novel. Here's Соняшна Машина - "Sunflower Car" performing today's poem.

Insert here the same blurb about this blog representing my views and my views only that I put in every blog in order to abide by Peace Corps rules. 

30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 18 - "Even if you left those places"

Day 18 brings us a new poet, thanks to some recommendations I sought out from local friends here in my city. Serhiy Zhadan, born in 1974, is the youngest poet whose work I have included so far in 30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry. When you have a bit of time for longer reading, this New Yorker profile of Serhiy Zhadan is one of the best pieces about Ukraine I have ever read in English-language media. I have seen almost no western media really "get" the conflict in eastern Ukraine - but this piece gets it, while giving a vivid portrait of the man behind the verses.

By now you might be getting the feeling that most Ukrainian poets are somehow connected to each other; I'm certainly starting to think so. Serhiy wrote his dissertation about the neofuturist approach of Mykhaylo Semenko, whose work I featured early on in this challenge, back on Day 3. (By the way - Day 3's poem is one of my favorites, yet it somehow has the fewest views. Go show it some love, and get a refresher on neofuturist Ukrainian poetry while you're at it).

And now back to today. The title of today's poem struck me immediately: "Even if you left those places". In 2013 I left behind my hometown, then in 2016 my home state, and in 2017 my home country, to live two continents and an ocean away in yet another place I will leave. With my departure from Ukraine ever looming in a rapidly-approaching future, a poem about leaving places - and, perhaps, rushing back - caught my interest right away.

Навіть якби ти покинула ті місця

Сергій Жадан

Навіть якби ти покинула ті місця
в яких народилась і де лишалась чекати,
де формувались риси твого лиця
і починались географічні карти,

навіть якби ти вживала чужі слова,
торкалась чужих плечей і чужих простирадел,
і навіть звідтіль, куди мало хто заплива,
не поверталась, хоч хто би тобі не радив,

навіть якби ти тікала від власних слідів,
від власних снігів на подвір'ї і сонця в ринвах,
якби уникала присмерків і холодів,
приспавши чужих кошенях на своїх колінах,

ти би примчала, всупереч всім листам,
назад — де високі дими і гарячі стіни,
напевне знаючи, що навіть там
ти його не зустрінеш.

Even if you left those places

Serhiy Zhadah

Even if you left those places
in which you were born and stayed waiting
where the lines of your face formed
and geographic maps began

even if you consumed foreign words,
rubbed shoulders with foreign people and foreign sheets,
and even from there, where few end up,
never returned, regardless of what people advised,

even if you escaped your own footprints, 
your own snows on the homestead and sun on the gutters, 
if you escaped hopelessness and cold, 
putting foreign kittens to sleep on your knee, 

you, contrary to all your letters, would come running
back - where there are high fumes and hot walls, 
surely knowing, that even there
you will not find it.  

The last line of this poem is vague to me; the way Ukrainian pronouns work, it could be either "it" or "him", and I'm really not sure which one it is. What I do know, is that he or it will not be there to meet this returned wanderer should they indeed wander and then return. Either way, it still seems to make sense.

For the record, I have indeed been consuming foreign words, sleeping on foreign sheets, and putting foreign cats to sleep on my lap. And for the record, my home indeed is a place of smoke and fire and hot, burning walls - although I haven't come rushing back to it yet.




The contents of this blog reflect my personal views and experiences only and are not indicative of the views of Peace Corps or of the governments of the US or Ukraine. That should be obvious, but policies are policies. 

30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 17 - "It's not the time"

It has taken until Day 17 for me to be bold enough to dig into the works of Ivan Franko. I looked at some of his stuff early on, and decided it was either too challenging, or set in the wrong season (it seems he has a collection of poems about every season except summer), or too political. But 17 days in, I figure I need to dive into some of the difficult poems every now and then; and given that so many of Ukraine's poets across generations have been revolutionaries of one form or another, why shy away from Franko? After all, he has an entire city named after him (recall my references in previous blogs to the city of Ivano Frankivsk?)

So, here is a patriotic poem that sounds very much like a battle hymn. It reminds me of Shakespeare's St. Crispin's Day speech, or "once more unto the breech!" - but with a focus centered more on love of country, and less on personal honor. 

Не Пора

Іван Франко

Не пора, не пора, не пора
Москалеві й ляхові служить!
Довершилась України кривда стара,
Нам пора для України жить.

Не пора, не пора, не пора
За невігласів лить свою кров
І любити царя, що наш люд обдира, —
Для України наша любов.

Не пора, не пора, не пора
В рідну хату вносити роздор!
Хай пропаде незгоди проклята мара!
Під Украйни єднаймось прапор!

Бо пора ця великая єсть:
У завзятій, важкій боротьбі
Ми поляжем, щоб волю, і щастя, і честь,
Рідний краю, здобути тобі!

It's not the time

Ivan Franko

Translated by Steve Repa 

It's not the time, It's not the time, It's not the time
The Muscovite and Polack to serve!
Unbearable's Ukraine's grievance of old
It is time, for us to live, for Ukraine

It's not the time, It's not the time, It's not the time
To shed our blood for ignorant fools
To love a Tsar, who, our people freely exploits
Our love, is alone, for Ukraine.

It's not the time, It's not the time, It's not the time
To bring in, dissent into our native home !
Perish all disagreements a cursed ghost!
Under the flag, of Ukraine, all unite!

For these times at the moment are great:
In a determined, difficult battle
We'll die so that freedom'n, glory, and honor,
O native land, we'll obtain this, for you!

I suppose in these divided and often discouraging times back in the US, we can take a message from Franko: that now is not the time to give up.

This poem has been recorded many times as a song, although with some variations in pronunciation and wording.

Having made it to Day 17 of this 30 Day Challenge, I can definitely say - now is not the time to give up! See y'all tomorrow.





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

30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 16 - "There where I am well"

Coming a little late here for Day 16, but that's life sometimes.

Of the poems I've featured on this blog, one of the most popular among those of you reading was Day 5: "I've lost my key" by Ivan Malkovych. So, I've decided to find another one by him to share. As I mentioned when first introducing his poetry, Ivan writes a lot about the Carpathian mountains in Western Ukraine.

A few key words are helpful in understanding this poem:

Chornohora: The tallest range of mountains in the Carpathians is known as Chornohora - meaning "black mountain". It includes famous peaks such as Hoverla  and Pip Ivan. I had quite an adventure climbing several peaks along this range this past spring, including Hoverla.

The lower parts of the mountains are covered in misty forest

Nearing the top of Hoverla, Ukraine's tallest peak. 

Hutsul: The Hutsuls are an ethnic group who have lived in the Carpathian mountains for a long, long time. Most Hutsuls live in Ukraine, although many Hutsuls also live in parts of the mountains that extend into Romania. There is a unique Hutsul dialect that you will hear if you travel in the mountains of Western Ukraine, and even a sturdy breed of Hutsul pony. Many Western Ukrainian traditions are deeply entwined with Hutsul ones.

On my first trek into the Carpathians last September, we went on horseback. According to our guide, this mare Gypsy was a Hutsul pony. 

So, knowing a bit more about the Carpathian mountains and the Hutsul people who live there, let's get to the poem!

Там де мені добре

Іван Малкович

Там
де  мені  добре  -
довкола  гори  -
невисокі  переважно
і  я  дуже  тяжко
прийшов  до  розуміння
що  невисокі  вони  тому  -
бо  ж  ростуть  углиб
(коріння  ясенів
подорожують  по  тих  горах)
Чорногори  глибин
ростуть  під  Карпатами

тепер  я  вже  знаю
яка  то  неправда
коли  ми  марнотно
складаємо  руки  померлим  —
бо  кожен  гуцул
після  відходу
ще  мусить  здолати
останню  свою
Чорногору  

There where I am well

Ivan Malkovych 

There
where I am well -
mountains are all around -
rather low ones
and I with difficulty
came to the understanding
that they are not tall because -
because they grow deep
(the roots of the ash trees
travel about these mountains)
Chornohora grows from deep
in the depths below the Carpathians

and now I know
what a lie it is
when we in vain
cross the hands of the dead over their heart -
because every Hutsul
after he departs
still must overcome
his final
Chornohora

The English is my own translation, and there are parts of it I am not sure of. If anybody has some suggestions, you are welcome to add them in the comments!





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

30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 15 - "To where, in the sky-blue sea"

Day 15 and whew, lordy, am I tired. Thursdays are when I run two back-to-back English clubs. Plus there's the cat.

I filmed today's (tonight's...) poem from my bed, and from my bed I shall not move. It is a love poem, a romantic and ambiguously melancholy one in which a lover promises to make his beloved into a star. Why is he making her into a star? Is it just romantic? Is she dead? I don't know.

The poet, Volodymyr Sosiura, was born just at the turn of the 20th century and, unlike a number of the poets I've featured on this blog, he actually lived a decently long life, surviving both World War I and World War II. He joined Ukraine's post-WWI fight for independence as part of the Ukrainian People's Republic, and was a staunch nationalist. One of his poems, formerly left unprinted, is now today known as "Mazepa", after a famous and still controversial Cossack hetman of late 1600s and early 1700s.

However, today's poem is not (as far as I can tell) about nationalism or Cossack hetmans. It's about turning his beloved into the brightest star in the heavens.

Туди, де в синім неба морі 

Володимир Сосюра

Туди, де в синім неба морі 
немов тремтить Чумацький Шлях, 
я понесу тебе над зорі 
в моїх закоханих піснях. 

Любові повний до нестями, 
мов непогасную свічу, 
там, за далекими світами, 
нову я зірку засвічу. 

Вона сіятиме, жадана, 
привітом дальнім крізь ефір… 
То будеш ти, моя кохана, 
найкраща із небесних зір!

To where, in the sky-blue sea

Volodymyr Sosiura

To where, in the sky-blue sea
as if trembles the Milky Way,
I will carry you above the stars
In my love songs. 

To love, filled to confusion
like an unextinguishible candle, 
there, past faraway worlds, 
I will light a new star. 

She will shine, beloved, 
a faraway greeting through the ether...
So you will be, my love, 
the best of the heavenly stars. 

I'm exhausted and need a shower, so the English translation has virtually no rhyme or meter. But it's there, and I didn't let today get the best of me! Halfway through, and I've only missed one day! Here's to the stars.

And now, a quick reading by a native speaker. This video makes me so ready for autumn. I love it.

Disclaimer you've read a dozen times about this blog representing only my personal views and not those of the Peace Corps, any national governments, any alien planets, etc. here. 

30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry - Day 14 - "Purrmeownish"

Wow, Day 14 already! It seems that a challenge like this one makes it startlingly obvious how quickly time flies by.

Anyway, it's much too hot out to think long or complicated thoughts, so I've turned again today to children's poetry, and in particular, to poems about cats (after all, I still have this now-not-so-stray kitten in my apartment). Cats are quite beloved and popular in Ukraine. When I first moved to site and was reading kids' books to improve my language skills, a preponderance of these books were about cats. My favorite was a book about two girls who, through sheer power of wishing hard enough, managed to turn themselves into cats for a day and have some pretty remarkable adventures. 

Today's poem about cats is by Emilia Satalkina. It's actually somewhat difficult to find information about her; most of it is in Russian rather than Ukrainian, and I needed to use Google Translate to get anything in English. From what I can understand, she is Russian but grew up in Kyiv from a very young age. It is where she studied, and gained an appreciation of Ukrainian language and culture. She has worked both as an editor and as an author, publishing many children's books and poems - largely in Ukrainian. This little poem about "cat language" is simple and sweet, which is exactly why I picked it today! 

Мурмунявська мова

Емілія Саталкіна

Я цікаву мову знаю.
- А яку? – спитаєш ти.
Ту, що нею розмовляють
В цілім світі всі коти.
Не японська, не іспанська…
Що? Англійська? Теж не та!
Зветься мова – мурмунявська.
Ой, яка ж вона проста!
«Няв» - це значить «хочу їсти»;
«Няв-няв-няв» - «іду гулять»;
«Мур» - на ручки хочу сісти»;
«Мур-мур-мур» - «лягаю спать».
«Няв-мур-мур» - «ходив у гості,
Там котлетки їв смачні».
«Мур-мур-няв» - «залиш мій хвостик,
Дуже боляче мені».
Щоб несли коти і киці
Радість, затишок у дім,
Мурмунявській мові вчиться
Треба змалку нам усім.

Purrmeownish

Emilia Satalkina

I know an interesting language.
Ah, which one? You're sure to ask.
The language that is spoken
By all of the world's cats. 
Neither Japanese, nor Spanish.
Perhaps English? No, it's not.
This language is "purrmeownish".
It's the simplest one we've got. 
"Meow" - means "I want to eat";
"Meow-meow-meow" - "I'm going to go wander"; 
"Purr" asks "on your lap - a seat?";
"Purr-purr-purr" - "it's time for slumber";
"Meow-purr-purr" - "I had tasty cutlets,
over with the neighbors";
"Purr-purr-meow" - "Let go of my tail! 
Ouch, that really hurts".
To bring to cats and kitties
joy and comfort in the home, 
We must all learn purrmeownish
We this duty own! 

My own translation again this time. It was quite an interesting little task translating "мурмунявська мова"! Муркати (murkaty) is the Ukrainian verb "to purr", while "няв" (nyav) is how you say "meow" in Ukrainian. So - the name of this poem, translated literally, is something like "purrpurrmeow language", but I decided to get a little creative.

And now for by far the funniest video of this first half of 30 Days of Ukrainian Poetry:

Cheers to two weeks of ups and downs, classical poets and modern-day ones, and everything from wistful ponderings to profound heights of emotion to silly poems about cats. I can't wait to see what the rest of the month has in store!




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