LІUDMYLA DIADCHENKO

 

LІUDMYLA DIADCHENKO

 

1

 

what will be left of you? withered leaves and a couple of skins

you shed in a serpent-like manner? dead wormwood stalks?

ambrosia buds? greek gods had a taste for that weed

but gods’ meat is woman’s poison gods are not us

the ragweed breeds allergy (a surgical mask as a chador)

and the dead leaves get noisy amidst the nights of delirium

what will be left of me? You took everything quite away

and all knaves of hearts’ mischief compared to that is a boyish parody

though what’s being left of us all: symbols, memories or just lies?

of jesus – the cross, of van gogh – sunflowers, of hugo – quasimodo

and of the world — the bones of all those who were driven by God

onto this earth under these skies into this adventure

 

TRANSLATION INTO ENGLISH BY VIACHESLAV STELMAKH

 

 

 

2

 

A book by Kafka supports the absurdity of recent fortnights.

Unfinished glasses of wine support last night’s celebration.

It’s a bit hard to look into the eyes of truth, the fictions of writers,

When our own story lies like a wrinkled blanket at first sunlight.

 

“To the future!” you say, raising your glass and nodding to the window,

Which frames, with its squares, ellipses of muteness and space;

And x-rays can’t show, for whatever long, irritating reason,

Why a soul stands on end. If you’re smart, you will guess this.

 

And what does it need? Why can it not stay still in windows or blankets?

And why does it hide a boatman’s oars at rest, in fog?

The prospects fly off the eyes like a hungry bird from opening hands,

And tomorrow will hold neither silence, nor Kafka, nor bird, any longer.

 

 

ORIGINAL TRANSLATION INTO ENGLISH

BY DMITROU TEPLOUHOV

RENDERED INTO AMERICAN ENGLISH

BY PADMA J. THORNLYRE

 

 

 

3

 

Side by side with my djinns. There

They are—just rub the electric kettle!

Here is my number. Ring me, if you wish,

Or spend the night—it doesn’t matter.

My hostess has stockpots and saucepans

And I have herring and water, but the djinn

Packing my dowry into a suitcase runs

Out of time. Could he really manage alone

Without littering my socks all about?

But then, all will happen as Fate wills it.

“Open, Sesame!” you will say, leaving me,

And my djinn will see you off.

 

ORIGINAL TRANSLATION INTO ENGLISH

BY DMITROU TEPLOUHOV

RENDERED INTO AMERICAN ENGLISH

BY PADMA J. THORNLYRE

 

LІUDMYLA DIADCHENKO

LІUDMYLA DIADCHENKO (1988, Kyiv, Ukraine) Poet, a Vice President of Ukrainian Writers Association, Ukrainian literary rating "The Book of the Year" expert, member of World Nations writers' Union (Kazakhstan). Doctor of philosophy (Theory of literature), works at Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv. Scientific interests: mythopoetic, hermeneutics, spatial studios. The author of poetry collections: Fee For Access (2011), The Hen for Turkish Man (2017), which is one of the ten best Ukrainian books of the year, Kedem. Sources of published poems; Literature magazines and journals – “Porter Gulch Review 2020” (USA), Atunis Galaxy Poetry (2020), Dendro Editorial (Peru, 2020), “Armagan” (Bosnia, 2020), “Shahitto” (India, 2019), Knjizevno pero (Crotia, 2019), “Artkaspi” (Azerbaijan, 2018), «Publishers Weekly» (United Arab Emirates, 2018); Anthology - "NEP: Night of erotic poetry" (2011), almanac of International Istanbul Poetry and Literature Festival (2017), of 18th International Sapanca Poetry Evenings (2018), Terra Poetica (Minsk, 2016), The Language of the Sky (Tbilisi, 2016), other almanacs and online publications.  A participant and winner of literary festivals; 2012 - Marked by Oles Gonchar International Ukrainian-German Prize. 2018 - Literary competition "Poetry of pomegranate tints" winner (Azerbaijan Diaspora Association).  Took place in The 10th International Istanbul Poetry and Literature Festival (Turkey, 2017), The18th International Sapanca Poetry Evenings (Turkey, 2018), The 11th International Istanbul Poetry and Literature Festival (Turkey, 2019), The 6th International poetry festival in Sidi bou Said (Tunisia, 2019), International Fikret Demirağ Poetry Festival (Nicosia-Cyprus, 2019), The 30th Medellin International poetry festival (Colombia, 2020), Chair Poetry Evenings (India, 2020). Some poems translated into English, Spanish, Arabic, Georgian, Croatian, Bosnian, Russian, Azerbaijani and Turkish languages. Living and working in Kyiv.