Inside the Cathedral
inside the cathedral, our voices
soared up,
wounded hawks of faces.
they circled, their wings brushing the frescoes,
and the candles were burning:
girls made of wax
were washing their hair with fiery shampoo,
and the sin was lodged firmly in me, like an orphan,
like a nail hammered into an apple tree.
внутри собора
внутри собора голоса наши
взмывали ввысь –
раненные соколы лица.
и еще долго кружили, стукаясь крыльями о фрески,
и свечи горели – восковые девушки намыливали волосы
огненным шампунем и
грех крепко сидел во мне как сирота.
как гвоздь вбитый в яблоню.
Vespers
a pine tree shines in the moonlight like a lighthouse.
the horizon, like a dead horse, lies in the violet dust,
among shards of glass, lights, and porous loafs of massive buildings.
the granite monument to a poet
looks like a swimmer chained to his starting block:
for already seventy years, he’s been jumping from it up to the sky,
always unable to overcome the gravity of the earth.
and the stars hang loosely above him, upside down,
their feet barely glued to the black and blue dome of glass.
why don’t they fall down?
why are you awake?
you are reading poetry like spells cast on no one.
and the star starts dancing in circles
like a slow drill bit.
вигилии
сосна в лунном свете светится, как маяк.
горизонт похож на мертвую лошадь –
в фиолетовой пыли лежит среди
бутылочных осколков, огней, пористых буханок домин.
гранитный памятник поэту –
точно пловец, посаженный на цепь.
уже лет семьдесят он прыгает с тумбы в небо,
но все не может перегрызть тяготение земли.
а звезды свободно висят над ним
вниз головами –
стотонные мраморные статуи
едва приклеены ступнями
к черно-синему стеклянному потолку.
почему они не падают?
почему ты не спишь?
ты читаешь стихи – заклинания для никого.
и звезда начинает танцевать по кругу
как медленное сверло.
Dmitry Blizniuk is a poet from Ukraine. His most recent poems have appeared in The Nation, Rattle, The London Magazine, Another Chicago Magazine, Eurolitkrant, Poet Lore, NDQ, The Pinch, New Mexico Review, The Ilanot Review, National Translation Month, and others. A Pushcart Prize nominee, he is also the author of The Red Fоrest (Fowlpox Press, 2018). His poems have been awarded the RHINO 2022 Translation Prize. He lives in Kharkov, Ukraine.
Sergey Gerasimov is a Ukraine-based writer, poet, and translator of poetry. Among other things, he has studied psychology. He is the author of several academic articles on cognitive activity. When he is not writing, he leads a simple life of teaching, playing tennis, and kayaking down beautiful Ukrainian rivers. The largest book publishing companies in Russia, such as AST, Eksmo, and others, have published his books. His stories and poems written in English have appeared in Adbusters, Clarkesworld Magazine, Strange Horizons, J Journal, The Bitter Oleander, and Acumen, among others. His most recent book is Oasis, published by Gypsy Shadow. The poetry he translated has been nominated for several Pushcart Prizes.
Header photo by frantic00, courtesy Shutterstock.
