October 2024
Bio Note: I was born in the Soviet Union and came to the US as a refugee at the age of 16. I have a bachelor’s degree in Electrical engineering and Computer Science from Princeton University and a Ph. D. in Statistics from Cornell University. I am a student in the Fairleigh Dickinson University MFA in Creative Writing program.
Currently, I am translating from Russian into English anti-war poetry that is being written at this time by poets living in Ukraine, Russia and the Russian-speaking diaspora.
Currently, I am translating from Russian into English anti-war poetry that is being written at this time by poets living in Ukraine, Russia and the Russian-speaking diaspora.
Kingfisher
Indigo and russet dandy,
fearless diver,
you plunge from a tree
into a stream;
burst from the water
into the sky.
Hungry hunter,
you snatch living quicksilver
from the swift current.
In your sharp beak
quivers my soul.
Creation
It is not hard
to fool the darkness.
Light can be summoned at will.
Squeezing the eyes shut,
I press hard on the eyelids —
circles of phantom fire
blaze in front of my pupils.
Let us strike a deal:
you can have all the treasures
stored in my memory
for a handful of stars,
the faintest of constellations…
But you drive a hard bargain
by refusing to exist.
In a blind rage
I splinter my heart for kindling,
pour gasoline,
strike a match,
watch the whole mess
burn to ashes.
Still, it beats,
it pulses in the darkness.
There is nothing to do
but sit,
read the empty page,
over and over,
till the repetitions form a pattern,
till the void yields a meaning:
Let there be darkness,
for there is.
There is darkness.
There is darkness.
There is darkness.
All there is, is darkness.
All.
Out of that substance
contours form,
an outline emerges:
Let there also be light.
Opening the Door
into what regions must you go now—
pale little, cold little, naked little soul
from “Little Soul” by Hadrian, translated by Frederick Brittain
I sense you by my threshold—
a stillness in the tossing leaves,
a silence in the rustling rain.
I open the door into the night:
come in, come in,
so I can warm you with my pulse,
wrap you in endearments—
silken names embroidered
with songbirds, with blossoming vines.
I will offer you laughter
effervescing in a tall glass,
distill sadness drop by drop,
pour it for you clear, smooth,
redolent of mint and rosemary.
I will bring joys heaped
like orchard fruit on a platter.
I will be glad, lighthearted,
as if I did not know
how fleeting our time will be,
as if I did not hear
the many tongues whispering,
each in its own words:
into what regions must you go now?
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to say what it is about the poem you like. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL