Porquê tanto cansaço? Porque as cidades são duras e o corpo é mole

by Iryna Shuvalova (ukrainian poet)

3. spring

in my
no-matter-what-country

a woman who shall remain nameless
awaits spring and war

she pulls our common future from the closet
tries it on in the mirror
smiles

and only when the air-raid sirens go off
in the background
does her smile fade

she reluctantly lowers her hands
takes off our future
hides it in the closet
sits out the airstrike on the bathroom floor

not the right season

***

4. wooden gods

what did you know my little wooden gods
my cunning golden foxes

when my flight
left behind
the gray-black-red
November field beyond Boryspil
the mirror patches of autumn water

what did you see
from your dusty place
on my bookshelf when I
brought you
pinecones leaves pebbles
to thank you for

I thought
a new job
a successful relocation
the visa finally issued
but apparently it was

for an evening without shooting
for a city without tanks
for the fact that my almost eighteen-year-old

won’t have to kill anyone
won’t have to die

***

5. this is how a face looks

this is how my child’s face looks
when she’s about to say
mom have you read the news
mom it’s war

this is how the face
of a Korean teenager looks
asking, “teacher, are you ok?”
asking “teacher, how is everyone back home?”

asking
“teacher it’s the twenty-first century
what the fuck?”

Translated from the Ukrainian by Amelia Glaser and Yuliya Ilchuk, in consultation with the author.