AGNI Online
  Subscribe      Donate    Stay Connected    Submit      About Us  


by Olena Zahajkewycz

translated from the Ukrainian by Askold Melnyczuk

From braids of wheat, bread grows,
Its long moustaches dripping dew
Twirled by the sun’s gold fingers;
Buckwheat honey leaves us drunk.

Scythe and sheaf,
And rows of bales receding in the distance;
Ploughed to clumps of grief,
Black, humid earth on its knees
While wind quietly shreds what’s left of a border of bluebells.

Rain and rain.
A cuff of small tears clamps the hours.
A key of cranes chases the sun.
Each night, in the yews, autumn creaks
While days of summer amble emptily
Down distant, unpaved roads.

—August 17, 1939

Olena Zahajkewycz was born in Laskivci, Ukraine, and now lives in New Jersey.

Askold Melnyczuk is founding editor of AGNI.

End of Article
AGNI Magazine :: published at Boston University ©2008 AGNI