On August 21, 2022, we received an email from Vyacheslav Konoval, a poet based in Ukraine.
“Good day! My name is Vyacheslav,” his email read.
“I am a Ukrainian poet. I write in English to promote my country. Recently, I wrote poems on military themes and poems about the Russian-Ukrainian war. But before the war, I had a large collection of poetry. I wanted to share some with You. I hope You want to publish them.”
Vyacheslav had been able to bypass internet restrictions and somehow had found Eksentrika. Despite being 8,462 km away, in solidarity with the Ukrainian people and Vyacheslav’s family, we’re publishing all of the poems he had sent us.
Eksentrika stands with Vyacheslav and Ukraine.
Like a child, I rejoice a winter,
I fly, I run on the first snow like a sprinter,
the falling snowballs to life reenter.
On the morning of January the first,
You will find the remains of burst,
noisy firecrackers and bright fireworks
which brought to people’s faces smirks.
The sky bathes in bright colors,
it sparkles and tears without mufflers,
fireflies enchant the audience and don’t coerce
to stand, as they would like, diverse.
The soul trembles kindly from the explosion,
behind the blows, there is no eviction,
from home, from the country, and from life.
Everyone will be calm, including my mother and miracle wife.
In the snowy forest, I will stop near the pines,
which were up in two lines.
The frost is raging, pinching my cheeks,
I like the fragrant pine reeks.
What could be better than a walk in the woods?
At a time when the snow squeaks underfoot,
and the mood becomes good.
Fascinated by the beauty of pines,
In the wood, I stood.
Once in January, I will freeze slightly,
where a lot of snow and everywhere was whitely,
to keep warm, I made a solution rightly,
filling the evening with events brightly.
A good choice, it was the mulled wine,
which smells fragrant and shines,
having tasted a sip becomes fine,
warmed my soul, sure, a mulled wine.
Swamp leader of the Eastern despotism,
preacting sо-сalled «Soviet peace» and isolationism,
wrote a historical pamphlet in the spirit of nationalism,
pages of it were overwhelmed by totalitarianism.
The «leader» had no empty words,
he gathered hordes and herds,
having equipment by grenades on their girds,
there is a horde of thousands of cowards.
The motley lava travels along the path,
and the tops of the mountains are covered with snow in front.
Notice a waterfall – a wonderful hunt.
My island is my geyser bath.
The silky green blade of grass,
which covers the sea with a blanket,
The Gods made a pass, leaving people with agate.
In the world, each of us is one.
Maybe someone desire that life this is to deny,
but fate has differently it done.
You come in life alone,
You leave the world alone,
not everyone is allowed to sit somewhere on the throne.
I used to look for a job
that would give me a good start.
Many ads similar to the corn on the cob
They are yellow as colors in art.
I inhale into the chest, gaining courage, and call the number
I took the CV in package,
and that night, I didn’t feel any slumber.
The interviews lasted for months,
I went to the company as if for eternity,
understood, the company desire money of millionth
by deception in the trade fraternity.
However, I fell in love with my tutor,
she was a beautiful girl, which spoke to me like a computer.
I couldn’t get involved.
Maybe for her, I was a problem, which stayed unresolved.
I invited a business lady on a date
thinking about her as my mate,
pull her out of the clutches of fraudsters
persuade her to the laws and the orders.
When I saw her on the date,
she did not look like a business lady,
clothes and hairstyle were shady.
I repeated: «Please, leave it job, I am aware,
I everything understood, am not a stupid»,
Leaning closer to me: «Go away», – she concluded.
Days pass, nights pass,
I wipe with sweat my glass,
I awaiting changes like never before.
Let new opportunities enter through the door.
The words are heard with magical zeal
Demon is wished to make a deal,
confirming the agreement with a powerful seal,
Oh no, my dream is not Evil’s meal.
I greedily pray to God,
my word is heard like a loud petard,
in hoping to get justified awed.
Come to me, My dream!
I’ve been waiting for You all my life
Just now I have only a beautiful wife.
Cover image by Artem Kniaz / Unsplash. The copyright of all the poems in this post belongs to Vyacheslav Konoval.