***
The last city,
of the last star.
Holidays of happiness.
Years of doubt,
years of silence.
You at the read night
are begging
for salvation,
like for alms,
with trembling eyelids
of wounded streets,
following the trail
of mysterious truths
of Motherland voices –
horseshoes of hope,
living on the slopes
of cold tears’
frantic pity.
Translated by Natalia Ogienko.
*** Alarmous sorrow of fogs hides from hellish, stranger’s eyes the museum of our waxen…
Yesterday, editor and literary critic Dmytro Drozdovsky received wonderful news about the publication of his…
The war goes on.The war goes on.War runs.War flies.Today I rememberwith what passionin my childhoodwe…
Yesterday, Oleksandr Korotko received a letter to his personal mail, which mentioned the intention of…
Olexandr Korotko is constantly working on new works, which we regularly publish in the relevant…
* * * Love is bitter by separation, by almonds, a ruined era, November, the…