Ukrainian Poetry

translated to English by Ellen Poplavska

  • Kostenko
  • Ukrainka
  • Zhadan
  • Traditional
  • Children’s
  • Snow Swirled High in the Sky — Platon Voron’ko

    Just a quick one for today.

    This one is a little loose in a few places to make room for all the fun rhymes. A more direct translation for the first line (and title) is “Snow fell on the doorstep.” If you can somehow make this poem work by rhyming every line with the word “doorstep,” contact me and I’ll give you five dollars and my deepest creative respect.

    Падав сніг на поріг

    Платон Воронько

    Падав сніг на поріг.
    Кіт зліпив собі пиріг.
    Поки смажив, поки пік,
    а пиріг — водою стік.
    Кіт не знав, що на пиріг
    треба тісто, а не сніг.

    Snow Swirled High in the Sky

    Platon Voron’ko

    Snow swirled high in the sky.
    Cat wanted to make a pie.
    While it baked and while it fried
    the pie melted down and dried.
    Silly cat! To make a pie,
    give some dough, not snow, a try.

    ellen

    December 30, 2023
    Children’s
    Platon Voron’ko
  • The Frog — Lydia Povh

    Here is a poem about autumn. It’s just barely winter now, astronomically speaking, but it still feels very much like autumn outside, weather-wise.

    I’m translating more children’s poetry in this new season of life. These are the poems I’ve known by heart since I could first repeat syllables. From the anthology Favorite Poems, Volume Two («Улюблені вірші. Том 2») published by the beloved house of A-BA-BA-HA-LA-MA-HA. This is one of my very favorites.

    A note on word choice: I considered whether “wee little” would fare better in the first line, but somehow I like the sibilance and texture of “small little” there more. Additionally, the gratuitous use of words like “wee” feels a wee bit disingenuous to me, seeing as I am neither an old-timey fairy tale character nor Scottish.

    Жабка

    Лідія Повх

    Журилась під осінь
    малесенька жабка:
    уже потемніла
    у соняха шапка
    і жовтими стали
    листочки у клена,
    а я іще й досі
    зелена-зелена…

    The Frog

    Lydia Povh

    A small little frog got
    so sad in the autumn:
    “The sunflower’s hat has
    turned dark top to bottom,
    the leaves of the maple
    have turned a bright yellow,
    but I’m still a verdant
    and green little fellow.”

    ellen

    December 29, 2023
    Children’s
    Lydia Povh
  • What Will You Remember About These Times? — Serhiy Zhadan

    I was asked to translate a poem to read at an event commemorating the one year anniversary of Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine. This is what I read.

    Що ти будеш згадувати про ці часи?

    Сергій Жадан

    Що ти будеш згадувати про ці часи?
    Адже пам’ять змиває всі голоси,
    адже пам’ять не пам’ятає жодних імен, жодних назв,
    але ти все одно згадуй, згадуй про кожного з нас.

    Згадуй про нашу закоханість у твоє лице,
    навіть якщо тобі це не подобалось – згадуй про це,
    навіть якщо ти не вірила в серйозність наших хвороб,
    навіть якщо не сумнівалась у марності наших спроб,

    навіть якщо не зможеш згадати наших імен,
    і якщо тебе завжди дратував колір наших знамен,
    мова наших освідчень,
    біографії наших святих,
    кількість у наших будинках зброї, вина і книг.

    Згадуй усе, що ми писали тобі в листах,
    згадуй, скільки нас полягло в чужих містах,
    згадуй, скільки з нас зламалося й продалось,
    згадуй, хоча б між іншим,
    хоча б когось.

    Згадуй, як ми ловили твої слова,
    згадуй наші поразки й наші дива,
    нашу вірність, нашу відвагу, наші страхи,
    носи при собі нашу любов, ніби старі гріхи.

    Без тебе нічого не буде, хочеш чи ні.
    Наші серця, як підводні міни, стоять в глибині.
    Згадуй кожну з утеч, згадуй кожну з атак –
    скільки зможеш, хоча б до смерті, хоча би так.

    What Will You Remember About These Times?

    Serhiy Zhadan

    What will you remember about these times?
    For memory washes away all voices and all of their lines,
    for memory does not remember a name or what anything’s called,
    but still you must remember, remember us all.

    Remember the way we fell in love with your face,
    remember it even if you never liked it in the first place,
    even if you did not believe how ill we were when you heard our cries,
    even if you did not doubt the futility of all of our tries,

    even if our names have been lost between memory’s crags,
    and even if you were always annoyed by the hue of our flags,
    the language of our confessions,
    the saints’ lives in our tomes,
    the amount of wine, weapons, and books in our homes.

    Remember all of the things that we wrote in our letters to you,
    remember how many of us fell in cities we never knew,
    remember how many of us broke and were sold — oh, you must
    remember, at least among other things,
    at least one of us.

    Remember how we caught your words without cease,
    remember our miracles and our retreats,
    our faith and our fears and our courage in wins,
    and keep our love with you like primeval sins.

    There will be nothing without you, whether you like it or not.
    Our hearts are like naval mines that stand in the depths, even if you forgot.
    Remember every recoil — recall every attack —
    as much as you can, at least until death, at least that.

    ellen

    February 24, 2023
    Zhadan
    Serhiy Zhadan
  • Ping-Pong — Lina Kostenko

    Found on page 25 of Three Hundred Poems, this is the eighteenth poem and one of the loosest. I decided to let myself go instead of trying to arbitrarily hit the conversational meter of the first part of the poem. The only real patterns in rhyme and meter in this one are towards the end.

    Пінг-Понг

    Ліна Костенко


    — добридень —
    — здрастуйте —
    — як справи? —
    — спасибі — добре — як у вас? —
    — робота — літо — спека — спрага —
    — а настрій? —
    — добре —
    — все гаразд —
    — неправда — очі —
    — вам здалося —
    — ви зблідли —
    — обережно — м’яч! —
    вогнем мовчання зайнялося —
    схрестились погляди — пробач —
    кажи слова легкі й порожні —
    кажи їх знов — кажи їх знов! —
    а так дивитися не можна
    в настільнім тенісі розмов

    Ping-Pong

    Lina Kostenko


    — good morning —
    — hello —
    — how are you? —
    — thanks — good — how about you? —
    — work — summer — heat — thirst —
    — аnd you feel? —
    — good —
    — everything is fine —
    — not true — your eyes —
    — you imagined it —
    — you’re pale —
    — watch out — the ball! —
    was carried off by fiery silence —
    our eyes met for a sec — my fault —
    say those words, empty and light-sounding —
    say them again — say them again! —
    staring like that is not allowed in
    the small talk table tennis game

    ellen

    February 9, 2023
    Kostenko
    Lina Kostenko
  • Nothing in Particular Happened — Lina Kostenko

    You get a slant rhyme! You get a slant rhyme! Everybody gets a slant rhyme! Every single line in this translation consists of a slant rhyme!

    The original poem here is so breathtakingly beautiful, and I am so embarrassed by the crimes against rhyme and meter I committed trying to make it fit into English.

    I am not happy with this — far from it, I think it’s probably the worst poetic translation I’ve done yet — but done is better than perfect and habit is better than honor. Maybe someday I’ll get it right.

    When I at least have decent pairs of end rhymes but the meter is lumpy and the phrasing is awkward, I can untangle that. When the rhymes themselves are bad, I find myself a little stuck. This poem had a lot of words that were quite difficult to rhyme or rearrange adequately in the relatively short lines.

    I am pleased with how well I stuck to the subject matter of the original, though. The only truly extraneously injected bits here:

    1. The original line about unraveling is more like a simple “Life unraveled, unraveled,” and
    2. The “farewell” was not, strictly speaking, in the original, but I needed an iamb and it made sense thematically.

    And I do love that last line.

    This is the sixteenth poem in Kostenko’s Three Hundred Poems, originally untitled and found on page 23.

    Нічого такого не сталось

    Ліна Костенко

    Нічого такого не сталось.
    Бо хто ти для мене? Сторонній.
    Життя соталось, соталось
    гіркими нитками іронії.
    Життя соталось, соталось.
    Лишився клубочок болю.
    Нічого такого не сталось.
    Ти просто схожий на Долю.

    Nothing in Particular Happened

    Lina Kostenko

    Nothing in particular happened.
    What are you to me? Someone else’s.
    Life unraveled where it was unhemmed
    to irony’s bitter farewell threads.
    Life unraveled where it was unhemmed.
    A yarn ball of pain’s all that is left.
    Nothing in particular happened.
    You just look a little like Kismet.

    ellen

    February 9, 2023
    Kostenko
    Lina Kostenko
  • Out There Are Planets Far Beyond Our View — Lina Kostenko

    Flipped to a random page in Kostenko’s Three Hundred Poems yesterday, which turned out to be page 378, and translated this little poem.

    Little, but challenging. I initially translated the first line as “There’s planets somewhere out beyond our view,” but there’s [plural] isn’t technically grammatically correct, though it’s a native speaker sort of error to make and is common in colloquial speech. I could have gone with “Planets are somewhere out beyond our view,” but I couldn’t get over the meter being backward on the first word.

    I also don’t love how far I stray from the original with the final line. The literal translation is more like “And maybe we are their little night star?” But done is better than perfect, and I can change it later.

    A confession: sometimes when I need feminine trochaic rhymes, I simply open up the text of “The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe and pluck a pair of words. This trick is perhaps particularly obvious here.

    Десь там планети в просторі безмеж

    Ліна Костенко

    Десь там планети в просторі безмеж
    Яка сумна у безвісті ночівля!
    А може ми ім світимося теж?
    А може ми їм зіронька вечірня?

    Out There Are Planets Far Beyond Our View

    Lina Kostenko

    Out there are planets far beyond our view
    Oh, how that far-flung bedroom must be dreary!
    And yet perhaps we shine upon them too?
    Perhaps we are the star when they are weary?

    ellen

    February 4, 2023
    Kostenko
    Lina Kostenko
  • As a Child Whene’er I Stumbled — Lesya Ukrainka

    One more little poem for today. Originally untitled and found on page 16 of The Broken Wing of Hope by Lesya Ukrainka.

    Як дитиною, бувало

    Леся Українка

    Як дитиною, бувало,
    Упаду собі на лихо,
    То хоч в серце біль доходив,
    Я собі вставала тихо.

    «Що, болить?» — мене питали,
    Але я не признавалась —
    Я була малою горда,—
    Щоб не плакать, я сміялась.

    As a Child Whene’er I Stumbled

    Lesya Ukrainka

    As a child whene’er I stumbled
    And would hit the ground with violence,
    Even if my heart was hurting,
    I would stand back up in silence.

    “Does it hurt?” they asked me gently,
    Though the pain I kept denying —
    I was proud when I was little —
    I would laugh to keep from crying.

    ellen

    February 2, 2023
    Ukrainka
    Lesya Ukrainka
  • How Bitter Is the Wine — Lina Kostenko

    Skipping ahead a few pages, here’s the tenth poem in Lina Kostenko’s Three Hundred Poems, originally untitled and found on page 17.

    I translated most of this on my lunch break at work today, after eating an excellent panini and before meeting a very interesting stranger. Such are the things that happen when one runs out of bread and thus goes to Starbucks instead of having a sad desk lunch.

    Яке гірке вино

    Ліна Костенко

    Кохання, вірність —
    істини одвічні.
    Створили їх іще до нас, давно.
    А ми…
    Що ж ми?
    Лиш випадкові стрічні.

    Яке гірке,
    яке гірке вино!

    А треба пити. То хороший звичай.
    Його створили теж для нас, давно…
    За нашу зустріч!
    За прощання наше!

    Яке гірке,
    яке гірке вино!

    How Bitter Is the Wine

    Lina Kostenko

    Devotion, loving —
    truths that are primeval.
    They were invented long before our time.
    And we…
    Are what?
    Just two colliding people.

    How bitter, oh,
    how bitter is the wine!

    But we must drink. It is a useful habit.
    It, too, was made for us before our time..
    To our meeting!
    Our separation!

    How bitter, oh,
    how bitter is the wine!

    ellen

    February 2, 2023
    Kostenko
    Lina Kostenko
  • In Evenings Lit by Dove-Gray Beams — Lina Kostenko

    The seventh poem in Three Hundred Poems by Lina Kostenko, pages 12-13. Originally untitled.

    A long one, a sweet one, a tricky one, one I’m not entirely happy with, one that’s a little looser in some places than I’d like. I don’t love how far the first two lines stray from the original here. The literal is more like “in the desert of dove-colored evenings, in endless fields under the sky.”

    I’m trying to be better about including feminine rhymes (multi-syllabic rhymes, like own hand / homeland, or no doubt view / about you) more often when they’re integral to the original, while also trying to forgive myself for slant rhymes and struggling not to hew too far from literal meanings.

    Also, how neat is that word? Сизий: a specific color word for the blue-gray of a dove. It’s etymologically separate from the word for dove, and yet is always defined as the color of one.

    В пустелі сизих вечорів

    Ліна Костенко

    В пустелі сизих вечорів,
    в полях безмежних проти неба
    о, скільки слів
    і скільки снів
    мені наснилося про тебе!

    Не знаю, хто ти,
    де живеш,
    кого милуєш і голубиш.
    А знаю — ти чекаєш теж,
    тривожно вгадуєш і любиш.

    І я прийду в життя твоє.
    Тебе, незнаного, впізнаю,
    як син вигнанця впізнає
    прикмети батьківського краю.

    Я ради цього ладна жить.
    Всі інші хай проходять мимо,
    аби в повторах не згубить
    одне,
    своє,
    неповториме.

    Нехай це — витвір самоти,
    нехай це — вигадка й омана!
    Моєму серцю снишся ти,
    як морю сняться урагани.

    In Evenings Lit by Dove-Gray Beams

    Lina Kostenko

    In evenings lit by dove-gray beams,
    in fields that I alone, no doubt, knew,
    how many dreams
    how many reams
    printed with words I’ve dreamed about you!

    I know not your name,
    where you live,
    who gets your love and your caresses.
    I know you also wait, and give
    your heart in anxious loving guesses.

    And I’ll come into your life then,
    and recognize you like my own hand,
    the way the sons of banished men
    will know at once their fathers’ homeland.

    I’ll live because of this, my gem.
    Let others all go undiscovered,
    as long as I don’t lose in them
    my one
    my own
    that’s like no other.

    Let this be folly I have known,
    mirages caused by being lonely!
    My poor heart dreams of you alone,
    Like oceans dream of tempests only.

    ellen

    January 31, 2023
    Kostenko
    Lina Kostenko
  • Don’t Let Your Wistful Glances Start Explaining — Lina Kostenko

    The sixth poem in Three Hundred Poems by Lina Kostenko, page 11. Originally untitled.

    Не говори печальними очима

    Ліна Костенко

    Не говори печальними очима
    те, що бояться вимовить слова.
    Так виникає ніжність самочинна.
    Так виникає тиша грозова.

    Чи ти мій сон, чи ти моя уява,
    чи просто чорна магія чола…
    Яка між нами райдуга стояла!
    Яка між нами прірва пролягла!

    Don’t Let Your Wistful Glances Start Explaining

    Lina Kostenko

    Don’t let your wistful glances start explaining
    the thoughts that words are still afraid to form.
    From this begins a care that’s self-sustaining.
    From this begins the silence of the storm.

    Are you a dream, a fantasy, a vision,
    some magic of the mind I should dismiss?
    Oh, what a rainbow crossed our wide division!
    Oh, what a vast, uncrossable abyss!

    ellen

    January 31, 2023
    Kostenko
    Lina Kostenko
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