* * *
Before the beginning of beginnings clumsy Virgil
to all poets, born in vain,
God knows why bequeathed hopeless
sadness of his genial creations.
* * *
Silence like a silence,
silent, forgotten, waiting for the call,
it is, like a bent willow,
that leaned over the water
in its thoughtful greatness,
and voices, like childish birds
with incredible simplicity
rankle it – what’s wrong with you?
* * *
One insists,
that all this is a lie,
other insists,
that this is very strange,
but I’ve seen myself,
like early morning
the crows pecked
eyes of the dew.
Dmytro Drozdovskyi, editor of the international literary magazine Vsesvit, shared his impressions of the new…
Glagoslav Publications has presented a five-language edition of Alexander Korotko’s poem “Stus” — a work…