Translations from Ukrainian by Ali Kinsella and Dzvinia Orlowsky. Bios below.

This red fire of dry stalks—
and what dry stalks
and sweet crackling of first rains!—
of fallen leaves that fell for a long time,
warm with currant smoke, or maybe raspberry,
the gentle crunch of branches cut from bushes

slowly unfolded. The ashy edges grew,
and the broken toy the child carried over
and laid at the foot of perhaps its first temple
only smoked through the varnish
of its dirty, wooden side.

O, red fire with the blue, violet eye!
Noon, and then, at once, an evening village—
a child who’s grabbed onto its mother,
dark groves far beyond the river.

Suddenly and everywhere—here
on the quiet, sleepy street, in the dark
groves far beyond the river,
fires blaze up in rays of evening sun
and the smoke of sweet leaves
spread its arms to us.

And when the evening oval faces lit up,
cleansed with sparkling grain and strange delight,
we tossed the child in the air, kissed
and twirled with it—and laughed
as if we, too, were children.

You will never die—in your little blue coat;
your thin lips will never break,
just as this fall evening will never disappear,
this fire that dances and flies into the air.

Can we not rejoice in the happy rhythm
that fills the universe and our hearts?
Can we not catch the divine light
wiping tears, like years, from our faces?

*

ВОГОНЬ

Цей червоний вогонь з бадилиння сухого,
а іще — із сухого-таки бадилиння
і солодкого тріскоту перших дощів;
із опалого листя, що падало довго,
з теплим димом смородини, може — малини,
ніжним хруском галузок, обтятих з кущів, —

...О червоний вогонь з голубим, фіолетовим оком!
Полудневе — і раптом вечірнє село,
дитинча, що руками схопилось за маму,
і далеко за річкою темні гаї...

І коли засвітились облич вечорові овали,
дивним захватом повні, іскристим омиті зерном,
ми дитину підкинули вгору і розцілували,
танцювали із нею, сміялися, наче воно.

Не помреш ти ніколи, ніколи — у курточці синій,
і не зломляться вічно тоненькі уста,
як не зникне ніколи цей вечір осінній,
цей вогонь, що танцює і в небо зліта.

Як же нам не радіти цим щастям і ритмом,
що пронизує всесвіт і наші серця?
Як же нам не ловити божественне світло,
витираючи сльози, мов роки, з лиця?..

Dzvinia Orlowsky, a Pushcart Prize poet, award-winning translator, and a founding editor of Four Way Books, is the author of six poetry collections including Bad Harvest, named a 2019 Massachusetts Book Awards “Must Read” in Poetry.

A former Peace Corps Volunteer, Ali Kinsella has been translating from Ukrainian for ten years. Her latest work, Love in Defiance of Pain: Ukrainian Stories, an anthology in support of Ukrainians today, is soon out from Deep Vellum Press.

Their collection of Natalka Bilotserkivets's poetry, Eccentric Days of Hope and Sorrow (Lost Horse Press, 2021) was shortlisted for for the Griffin Poetry Prize and the Derek Wolcott Prize for Poetry.