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Julia Stakhivska - 3 poems

3/4/2016

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Picture
(as translated by Volodymyr Bilyk)
1. Verde


Our meeting reminds me of two birds
who decided to do the nest together for the first time:
awkward at first, no-nonsense then.
Fence nearby gets off soft moss glove
and we find straws of words,
green wind look into the insides.
there's a storm coming from a car on the selvede of the pavement,
we're trying to get a name for the color of the water under the bridge.
It's still blind - like a kitten - someone says.
You look at the tree just if you had a bud instead of heart,
I'm way more calmer - i've got sprout growing through my left leg.
I know already who i will become this summer. 
***
2.Raktas, or the Key
                                 for  M.K.

The key of the steel wolf enters 
the hole of the Lithuanian wood.
Soft moss of words grows all over our room:
adds the green glow to your eyes, makes it weird.
I want to say "that's impossible"
You say "it is".
The key lies under the tongue - 
its cold howling is sobering.

Moss Troops of Rudnick Forest
wins us over milimeter by milimeter.
I've hanged the white flag of fog by the river
Your ducts turned brier:
with breath-in of white flowers
and breath-out of red berries.

***
3.
Cozy cemetary,
but stormy waves of tombstones.
With time mirrored: 1943-1913.
Old trees overcome everything with its thick
Stranger comes here and there
- then ducks, child cries, goldie-dog runs along
You hear the voice of guide,
its watch-like ticking.
You want to hold hands tight,
step on the moss with a bit of uncertainty and certain fear of falling through
And then - in shrubs of tombstones
you see the terracotta back of vixen
Her tail wags fast
just like obscure lipstick traces on the gray cup.

​

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