I found these poems on Facebook and thought they deserved a wider readership.
PGS
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37 years ago, the poet Vasil Stus died in the 36th Perm political camp (colony VS-389/36).
Don't give up on the spring.
It's easier in the winter.
Spring, don't give up!
Hold on like salvation is ice,
Keep holding on to the edge of your heart,
and so live it. This is the life.
***
I'm in the band of the vicious circle.
No one comes close, don't look!
Which means - no soul, no friend,
just that evil scum
Kolyma devil's jam.
And the loneliness ! As well as the evil
the look of snitches, studs...
Where are you leading me, my kin,
my tongue-tongue - for centuries?
***
Oh lord I know no offense
for that part ! i believe that is you
like a handful of raw, worthless clay
you take me, and you stir me, you oppress me,
to sculpt my image. To be in vain
another one from the flesh of Ukraine
the chunk has become a fortress. I knew a raging fever,
knew the anger of winter without edge and beginning,
and you, soul, have become so transparent,
that I don't throw shade.
***
Sofia is far gone,
flaunted like a lilac flower.
You were following me - but you didn't have time,
I did not hear that first rumble.
Snow and cold wind chill,
whistles and screams, damn moans,
dogs growling, swearing and threats,
behind the race in the race.
Stages today, stages tomorrow,
you lie down, you sit on the side...
I bless your lie ,
the road of pain, the road of destiny!
(Translation from Ukrainian to Russian by E. Sunnikovaya)
