Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    The Frontier: 28 Contemporary Ukrainian Poets: An Anthology (A Bilingual Edition)
    The Frontier: 28 Contemporary Ukrainian Poets: An Anthology (A Bilingual Edition)
    The Frontier: 28 Contemporary Ukrainian Poets: An Anthology (A Bilingual Edition)
    Ebook224 pages1 hour

    The Frontier: 28 Contemporary Ukrainian Poets: An Anthology (A Bilingual Edition)

    By Anatoly Kudryavitsky

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    This anthology reflects a search of the Ukrainian nation for its identity, the roots of which lie deep inside Ukrainian-language poetry. Some of the included poets are well-known locally and internationally; among them are Serhiy Zhadan, Halyna Kruk, Ostap Slyvynsky, Marianna Kijanowska, Oleh Kotsarev, Anna Bagriana and, of course, the living legend of Ukrainian poetry, Vasyl Holoborodko. The next Ukrainian poetic generation also features prominently in the collection. Such poets as Les Beley, Olena Herasymyuk, Myroslav Laiuk, Hanna Malihon, Taras Malkovych, Julia Musakovska, Julia Stakhivska and Lyuba Yakimchuk are the ones Ukrainians like to read today, and each of them already has an excellent reputation abroad due to festival appearances and translations to European languages. The work collected here documents poetry in Ukraine responding to challenges of the time by forging a radical new poetic, reconsidering writing techniques and language itself.

    Edited and translated from the Ukrainian by Anatoly Kudryavitsky.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGlagoslav Publications
    Release dateSep 21, 2017
    ISBN9781911414506
    The Frontier: 28 Contemporary Ukrainian Poets: An Anthology (A Bilingual Edition)

    Related to The Frontier

    Related ebooks

    Poetry For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      A Year in Reading: Stephen Dodson

      Dec 3, 2018

      I’ve read a lot of Russian literature and a lot about it, several general histories (starting with D.S. Mirsky’s classic) and a bunch of more specialized ones. Frankly, I didn’t think any book could add much to my understanding. But the massive new A

      4 min read

    • Article

      A Nocturne for Eurydice

      Mar 15, 2022

      for “the maiden in her dark, pale meadow” Twilight through the roof of a rain forestshatters like a chandelier of green glass,the shrillness strafed by keening cicadasand unseen flocks of cockatoos that cawtheir catcalls at the meltdown of the sun. D

      2 min read

    • Article

      On Bach

      Dec 1, 2022

      On Bach
      13 min read

    • Article

      The Genre Of Resistance

      Aug 15, 2018

      Mine (University of New Mexico Press, March), a collection of personal, lyric, and investigative essays about ownership—the corporeal, the familial, and the intellectual in form—as well as the realities of loss and isolation and the idea of belonging

      12 min read

    • Article

      Russian Roulette

      Feb 1, 2021

      As a longterm fan of Dostoevsky (and yes, unusually for a 19th century literary novelist, he does have a kind of fan club, many of whom are adolescents high on the thrill of first encountering his freewheeling combo of philosophical pondering and jaz

      2 min read

    • Article

      Redux: A Poem Is a Suitcase

      Apr 10, 2018

      Redux: A Poem Is a Suitcase
      1 min read

    • Article

      José Donoso Saw the Future of Latin American Literature

      Nov 21, 2023

      American readers have largely forgotten the single greatest writer to come from the Latin American Boom: Chilean novelist José Donoso. The post José Donoso Saw the Future of Latin American Literature appeared first on The Millions.

      5 min read

    • Article

      Two Poems by Charles Baudelaire

      Jun 9, 2020

      After my friend and I left the tobacco shop, he carefully sorted his loose change; slipped some small gold coins in his left jacket pocket; into the right went the silver pieces; in his left pants pocket, a handful of centimes; and in the right, a si

      2 min read

    • Article

      The Language of Flowers Is in Much Disrepair

      Mar 1, 2022

      I’m ready for a new poem.Sure, it’ll still be on a first name basiswith ants in eye sockets,rain on ruined lawns,the myriad of household solvents’explosive potential.It’ll still be astounded by translucence,how pressure causes it in what doesn’t shat

      1 min read

    • Article

      A Year in Reading: Max Porter

      Dec 6, 2019

      I would have been lost this year (as any other) without poetry to cling to and travel with. The post A Year in Reading: Max Porter appeared first on The Millions.

      3 min read

    • Article

      Foreign Affairs

      Dec 1, 2022

      Foreign Affairs
      24 min read

    • Article

      “Where Poetry Comes From”

      Sep 1, 2020

      This is what power really is: the privilege of ignoring anything you might find distasteful. —Oksana Zabuzhko “Language, any language,” observed the young poet Oksana Zabuzhko, “is the capital love of my life” because “nothing else has the power to s

      11 min read

    • Article

      The Exuberant Diversity of Ukrainian Literature

      Feb 24, 2023

      When Russia invaded Ukraine one year ago, the region of Sumy, just northeast of Kyiv, came under intense bombardment, endangering the house where Anton Chekhov spent two halcyon summers working on his play The Wood Demon, as well as several short sto

      12 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for The Frontier

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      The Frontier - Anatoly Kudryavitsky

      Kudryavitsky

      The Frontier

      HALYNA BABAK

      Halyna Babak was born in Kharkiv in 1988. Having graduated from Kharkiv State University, where she studied the Ukrainian language and literature, she worked as an arts facilitator. She is currently studying for a PhD at the University of Prague in the Czech Republic. Her first collection, I Love Green, was published in 2007; her second, From Clay and Water, in 2011.

      A Puddle

      Contemplating where we come from,

      I stepped into a puddle

      that wanted to swallow my boot.

      A puddle, a boot and I . . .

      what kind of connection can there be?

      Except that some puddles harbour sparkling stars . . .

      Contemplating what a puddle is,

      I stepped into my inner self.

      The Way Up

      prickly grass was on fire

      the road to inner self

      seemed easy and salty

      we yearned for a handful of heaven

      the sky fell at our feet as rain

      we were pondering ourselves

      and listening aloud

      there was no fear in us

      the wind ran its long fingers through our hair

      soaring birds gained height –

      but when we arrived

      we didn’t recognise ourselves

      Silence and a Jug

      Corporeality has dimensions of time and space.

      Although an everyday woman doesn’t think of it

      every time she takes a jug

      to fetch water.

      For silence and water

      erase lines

      on the body of the jug

      left by Creator’s hand.

      Although the everyday woman doesn’t think of it

      every time she lifts the jug

      and drinks water.

      For her hand is both time and space.

      Sheep

      Sheep came up to me,

      they danced circle dances.

      They asked me to keep letting them out to graze,

      to be around them, not to forget them.

      And calm came over me,

      over my body, as warmth, as mildew, as grass.

      Then I came up to you.

      I asked you to keep letting me out to graze,

      to be around me, not to forget me.

      I raised my arms to the sky,

      but the sky was all clouds,

      all fields,

      all destiny.

      Oh sheep, my sheep. . .

      The Sea

      She wanted to know

      if he was fond of the sea.

      But he was untalkative.

      She wanted to know if ships

      miss their captains.

      But he still remained silent.

      She also wanted to know

      why the waters were so patient.

      And his silence gave birth to the sea,

      and watercraft navigated it,

      and ageing captains were sad,

      and they listened to the roar in sea shells,

      and viewed yellowed photographs,

      and recounted their wanderings to their grandchildren.

      And the waves were gently rolling,

      and the waves were softly whispering

      their thoughts.

      Maybe about the weather,

      or maybe they expected an onshore wind,

      or just expected something.

      And she felt the power of the waters.

      And she felt the power of their patience.

      Time

      Time is equal to the distance

      between the two who gulp air like fish

      stranded on the shore of dreams

      that has a border between an urge to dive

      and the actual dive into the stream

      which isn’t a day or a night

      no clay there

      impossible to mould a face

      or an idol

      the water washes all away

      forming a circle, an orange tree

      thirst and weaponry –

      everything is love

      birds’ chirps

      and freedom and intimacy

      and the word

      ANNA BAGRIANA

      Anna Bagriana (Hanna Bagryantseva) was born in 1981 in the city of Fastiv near Kyiv. Having graduated from Kyiv National University named after Taras Shevchenko, where she studied the Ukrainian language and literature, she worked as a radio and television journalist. She has published six collections of her poems, the latest being Love Spell (2011), as well as three novels, a collection of her plays, a number of children’s books and numerous translations from Bulgarian and Macedonian. Among her awards are the Panteleimon Kulish Prize (2013) and the Grigori Skovoroda Award (2014). She lives in Sofia with her husband, the Bulgarian poet Dimitar Hristov.

      Oak

      I am the apex of an old black

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1