Literature in Translation |

from A Gap in Time

The five poems you are about to read belong to a cycle of 64 short lyrics, chronicling the first 150 days of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022. The author, Irina, is an eyewitness at one remove: a Russian poet horrified by the violence her country has unleashed on its neighbour. We are withholding her surname to protect her identity. Her poems tell of an individual’s fall through the “gap in time” that opened up when war suddenly annulled all certainties and forced itself into the space between people, alienating friends, colleagues and family members from one another. The cycle is a topical first-person documentary, full of raw emotion, yet simultaneously a highly literary, formally inventive work. Its author grapples to find a language to express something that is more unspeakable than most other topics people write about. It has been said famously that poetry makes nothing happen, that culture will not save anyone. This is true only if we take it literally: poetry really cannot stop bombs and bullets. But civic poetry – a long tradition made topical once again by the catastrophes of the present – turns the poet from a silent bystander wrestling with their powerlessness into a witness. Art, refracting bare facts through individual experience, reminds us of the resilience and beauty of life. There is a chance that poetry will engage our humanity – the obligation not to look away and our capacity for empathy – when we have long become inured to news of more destruction and violence. — Josephine von Zitzewitz, translator

 

/     /     /     /     /

 

day 2

 

time is crumbling – breaking off bit by bit – feeding on reflections

the sun is orbiting the settling ponds of chernobyl

the black magic of the nuclear button

 

the world reminds me

of a white lab mouse

they ask the mouse

wouldn’t it like

nuclear fire

for breakfast, lunch and dinner

as if the mouse itself decided to commit hara-kiri

 

the mouse agrees

but for some reason still thinks about the future

 

and

hopes

for the resurrection of the dead

 

 

day 32

 

i didn’t leave my village near kyiv – max writes

because of the dogs

two of my alabais

go to the basement themselves upon hearing the siren

we’re now spending most of our time in the basement

but we have internet

today i held

a seminar on surgery

online

we discussed thyroid cancer

where are those sufferers now?

recently

we’ve had hellishly good luck

since the bridge was blown up

our village

is no longer of importance to the military

 

it sounds so strange: military operation

i think

you immediately see

many operating tables

white tiles

gowned up nurses

hands covered in machine oil

using dirks

to cut open pale bodies

they push inside

and touch delicate warm organ walls

tear into tissue

 

 

day 41

 

propaganda’s bickford fuse

cauterizes eyes and ears

explodes the brain

causes

souls to detonate

 

the mass media’s greatest success is

agitated

children’s stockholm syndrome in old people

it can be shut down

only by wiping all cities

on the planet off the map

even psychiatrists

aren’t willing

to try restoring

the mental health of those hypnotized

 

with those thoughts

the old people

start the journey to hell

 

 

day 125

 

the two-way traffic inside me

has formed a sphere

so it’s impossible to move together-meet up- collide

this is the course of

ha

bit

tu

a

tion

in

oc

cu

la

tion

to pain

i’ve observed this symptom

before

in cancer patients

in the final – fourth – stage

 

*

 

we are many

very many

our foreheads and shoulders walk in rows

our heads

round like balls on a soccer field

are shattered

by invisible bullets

they ooze

like egg yolks with chick blood in them

we no longer

feel

pain

 

*

 

when habituation happens

you imperceptibly morph

into another kind of being

with a frontal bone

thick as a shield

 

the chain of events disintegrates

but aims appear

 

that’s when you first

look into your wardrobe

change your clothes

plunge into mirages

of the sea-sand-a striped swimming costume

 

and now

you are already walking around central Moscow

there’s music-dancing-laughter

as if the resort towns

had expanded their borders

as if

right nearby

people weren’t dying under rubble

weren’t being blinded by fire

and now

you buy at the bar

 

a glass of wine

you make plans:

tomorrow i’ll go to a concert

the day after – to an exhibition

after that – to the theatre

 

in the evening

you don’t look

at the news

for the first time

 

 

day 149

 

i no longer hope for the resurrection of the dead

i hope for the resurrection of the living

 

 

/     /     /     /     /

 

 

2 день 

 

время крошится-отскакивает по кускам-питается отражениями

солнце крутится вокруг отстойников чернобыля

чёрной магии ядерной кнопки

 

мир напоминает

белую лабораторную мышь

не угодно ли

ядерный огонь

на завтрак обед и ужин —

спрашивают у мыши

будто она сама решилась на харакири

 

мышь соглашается

но отчего-то всё равно думает о будущем

 

и

чает

воскресение мёртвых

 

 

32 день

 

не уехал из-под киева — пишет макс

из-за собак

два моих алабая

по тревоге сами спускаются в подвал

мы теперь почти всё время в подвале

зато есть интернет

сегодня вёл

хирургический семинар

онлайн

обсуждали рак щитовидной железы

где теперь те больные?

недавно

дьявольски повезло

после взрыва моста

наш посёлок

не интересен военным

 

странно звучит: военная операция —

думаю я

сразу видишь

множество операционных столов

белый кафель

помытых медсестёр

руки в машинном масле

кортиками

разрезают бледные тела

забираются внутрь

к тёплым тонким стенкам органов

рвут ткани

 

 

41 день

 

бикфордов шнур пропаганды

выжигает глаза и уши

взрывает мозг

вызывает

детонацию душ

 

главное достижение  сми —

растревоженный

детский стокгольмский синдром стариков

его можно закрыть

лишь стерев с карты

все города планеты

даже психиатры

не берутся

за возвращение

психического здоровья закодированным

 

с этими мыслями

старики

отправляются в ад

 

 

125 день

 

двустороннее движение внутри меня

обрело форму шара

потому не сдвинуться-не встретиться-не столкнуться

так идёт

при

вы

кание

при

ви

вка

к боли

 

раньше

я наблюдала этот симптом

у  онкологических больных

в последней — четвёртой стадии

 

*

 

нас много

очень много

наши лбы и плечи идут рядами

наши круглые головы

как мячи на футбольном поле

невидимками-пулями

разбиваются

вытекают

как желток яичный с цыплячьей кровью

мы более

не чувствуем

боли

 

 *

 

когда происходит привыкание

незаметно становишься

иным существом

с толстой лобной костью —

как щит

 

цепь событий распадается

но приходят цели

 

тогда впервые

заглядываешь в шкаф

меняешь одежду

проваливаешься в миражи

моря-песка-полосатого купальника

 

и вот

ты уже идёшь по центру москвы

там музыка-танцы-смех

будто курортные города

расширили границы

будто

совсем рядом

не гибнут под завалами

не слепнут от огня

и вот

ты берёшь в баре

бокал вина

строишь планы:

завтра иду на концерт

послезавтра — на выставку

потом — в театр

 

ночью

впервые

не открываешь

новости

 

 

149 день

 

я уже не чаю воскресения мёртвых

чаю — воскресение живых

Contributor
Irina

Irina is a well-known Russian poet and prose writer. She has published four collections of poetry, and her work is regularly featured in leading journals and has been translated into several European languages. Contemporary Russia once again persecutes it best civic minds, among them many poets: calling the aggression against Ukraine a war or making negative comments about the military effort could lead to a prison sentence. To keep the author safe, we are protecting their identity.

Contributor
Josephine von Zitzewitz

Josephine von Zitzewitz is an academic and translator. She is the author of two monographs on late Soviet samizdat literature and numerous articles on late 20th-century and contemporary Russian poetry. Her translations of Russian-language poetry have appeared in journals in the UK and US, and she is a contributor to the new bilingual anthology of anti-war poetry, Dislocations (Two Strings Press, Jan 2024), the follow-up to Disbelief (Smokestack Books, 2022).

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