Kakhovka Dam Burst: June Landscape
By Igor Bozhko
Translated from the Ukrainian and Russian by Philip Nikolayev
***
in the moonlight roofs are floating
a barcarolle sounds
floating flowers floating coffins
floating drifting cows
wavering the mirrored crescent
a dog and a cat
paddle but no one is rescued
by the moonlit path
rising waters overwhelm
overflow all things
and as dark as life itself
a barcarolle rings
July 17, 2023
Butterfly
war rages in the fields
kills everything that breathes
it tears off living limbs
stares with a beastly gaze
ruins everything in its way
it crucifies the yellow field
it pierces skin and ribs
it devours all
it devours all
but one soul persists alive
vital indestructible
unsubdued by death it thrives
a marvelous black angel
among the raging metal
it refuses to settle
but instead of dying
keeps flying and flying
* * *
the air is motionless
not one leaf stirs
on the old linden tree
recently
an insane wind shook the houses and the sea
chopping off anything unwanted
slamming doors
now it is quiet
with a gentle ringing in the ears
sparrows mutter
an occasional chirp
and then again there’s no sound
or explosion
such that windows shatter
and hearts shudder
July 7, 2023
* * *
russian planes dropped a barrage
of bombs on the village
they killed old folks and children
puppies kittens and chickens
after another violent clap
the fish are floating belly u
white bellies all over the pond
likewise killed dead by a bomb
the maidan exists no more
nor the council the church the store
where the candies bread and wine
flew out the window to the sky
that’s why the angels in the sky
are eating candies and drinking wine
as they weep
and weep
and weep
for the innocently slain
no candy for them
* * *
when a burst of bloody bullets rocks the town
the cuckoos inside their clocks just hunker down
little dogs run to basements flee from peril
while a bottle stands unopened on the table
all the bullets avoid it with precision
they pursue other targets with ambition
now that everything is shattered in the cottag
shaggy shadows crawl the walls and on the low porch
but the bullets skirt the bottle gingerly
for the master bade it wait until victory
for he ordered it to stand firm and endure
homebrew sentry until the end of war