《2月 23日》
我的天空如此深邃。
它的嘴唇，颤抖着，
把太阳含到地平线。
它的手，温暖，
抚摸着因春天到来
而肿胀的树梢，
摸到树冠的边缘，
摸到嗓音的声响。
我的天空
肩上扛着和平的飞机，
摇着婴儿车里的婴儿，
安慰着病人、孤独的人、
绝望的人。
我想靠着这片天空，
带着躁动的心
深深潜入其中，
将翅膀的种子播在我体内。
我想变成光线，
抚摸着土壤，
培育花朵。
光线，
坚守边界，
照瞎敌人。
一个顶部
有两个点的字母
发着光。
那光线
永不褪色。
2022 年 2 月 23 日，Vyshhorod维什霍罗德
February 23
My sky is so
deep.
Its lips, trembling,
carry the sun to the horizon.
Its hands, warm,
caress the treetops,
swollen with spring
up to the brim,
up to the sound of voice.
My sky
holds peaceful airplanes on its shoulders,
rocks a baby in the pram,
comforts the sick, the lonely,
the desperate.
I want to lean
against this sky,
I want to dive deep into it
with my ruffled heart,
planting the seeds of wings inside me.
I want to turn
into rays,
caressing the soil
and raising flowers.
Rays,
holding the borders
and blinding the enemy.
Rays of a
letter
with two dots
on its top.
Rays
that will never fade.
February 23, 2022. Vyshhorod
***
我们中有多少人，
穿着冬装
在陌生的春天小镇，
我们的双腿，
缠着自己的根，
寻找一个安全的地方。
我们中有多少人，
心从身体里长出来，
只在短短一个月内，
而现在却大声而赤裸地
向彼此冲撞。
我们中有多少人，
身体如岩石；
被痛苦紧紧掐住；
这些身体，
曾经是花朵，
由温暖滋养，
被热烈地爱过。
我们中有多少人，
沿着阳光行走。
我们中有多少人
没有权利倒下。
2022年3月22日，Kolomyya科洛米亚
How many of us
in winter jackets
in strange springtime towns,
our legs tangled
in our own roots,
searching for a safe place.
How many of us
with hearts that grew
out of our bodies in just one month
and now banging, loud and naked,
toward one another.
How many of us
with rock-solid bodies;
gripped tight with pain;
bodies
that used to be flowers,
nurtured with warmth,
fervently loved.
How many of us
walking along the sunbeams.
How many of us
having no right to fall.
March 22, 2022. Kolomyya
***
《去霍尼湖》
我正游向水罂粟，要去闻它，
仿佛美对一切都有发言权，
仿佛它可以治愈天空，
以及我脚下的未知之物。
告诉我，水黾，
从这里到我家有多少水；
到这场战争结束有多少水；
在我和死亡的句号之间
有多少水。
寒冷的雨滴开始从天空而落。
水黾躲在芦苇丛中。
我向水吟唱我的祈祷，
一遍又一遍。
我绕着水罂粟花游动，
仿佛美对一切
都有发言权。
2022年7月2日，波兰Krasnogruda克拉斯诺格鲁达
To Hołny Lake
I’m swimming
to the water poppy to smell it,
as if beauty had a say in anything,
as if it could heal the sky,
and the unknown under my feet.
Tell me, water
strider,
how much water is it from this place to my home;
how much water to the end of this war;
how much water between me
and the full stop of death.
Chilly
raindrops start falling from the sky.
The water strider hides in the reeds.
I’m reciting my prayer to the water
again and again.
I’m swimming around the water poppy,
as if beauty had a say
in anything at all.
July 2, 2022. Krasnogruda, Poland
***
这里的松树和菩提树和我家乡的看起来一样。
黑麦中的矢车菊；草地上的鹳。
但我没离开大路，
没在树林里采摘野草莓，
没有为我女儿做一个花环，
没有转身
背对茂盛的青草，
投入夏天的怀抱。
我内心的一切都已埋了雷，
我不知道从哪里开始。
用看到战争的眼睛，
用听到爆炸的耳朵，
用颤抖和逃跑的身体，
用变成雷区的语言：
每个词都可能爆炸并将你杀害。
或者，也许
用充满了爱的心，
容不下仇恨，
至今，仍然无法容纳仇恨。
我什么时候才能清除心中的地雷？
2022 年 7 月 2 日。波兰Krasnogruda克拉斯诺格鲁达
Pine trees and
lindens here look just like those back home.
Cornflowers in the rye; storks in the meadow.
But I don’t turn off the road,
don’t pick wild strawberries in the woods,
don’t make a wreathe for my daughter,
don’t turn my back
toward the luscious grass
to fall into summer’s embrace.
Everything
inside me has been mined,
and I have no idea what to begin with.
With the eyes that saw the war;
with the ears that heard the explosions,
with the body that trembled and fled,
with the language that turned into a minefield:
every word can explode and kill you.
Or, perhaps, with the heart
so full of love
that hatred did not fit inside it,
it never fit inside it – until now.
When will I clear my heart of mines?
July 2, 2022. Krasnogruda, Poland
