Dandelions poetry ✻
📚 Poems - Bohdan Kukhta
🎤Voice - Vsebozna Shakesperius
🔍Translation - Vsebozna Shakesperius
💳 Support of the author - 4441 1144 2483 1947 - Monobank
Mutual
MUTUAL
The swirls of wind make the hair flow about,
As though it were some seeds of a dandelion.
They rip the memories out and take ‘em away.
It is nearby where the shadow does sway,
The shadow, which does follow my own.
Step by step, behind the wall of stone,
There are slipping some ghosts
Of the abandoned and cut-off people.
I no longer recognize them.
They do not recognize me.
We have a mutual
Misunderstanding.
Dandelion
DANDELION
Autumn pours us with impressions
Under the warm rain.
It’s golden-yellow jam
That we eat with spoons
And smile...
Autumn changes the wallpapers,
Adds lots of orange,
Bright and warm,
Having wrapped us in a bark blanket,
It’s smiling.
And whispering:
Kindle the fire.
Kindle the fire!
Speaking
That it will return very soon
With black
Like night ravens
And icy rains.
Take care of yourself, boy.
Take care of yourself, girl.
This all must be endured
Again and again,
To feel the foundation.
It’s hidden in dandelions.
The true taste of life
Is tempered by trials,
By rises
October Dandelions
October dandelions
Are yellow in their own way.
Golden balls
Bathe in the rays
Of the sun.
In the steppes on barrows
There are ancient stone women.
A gray-haired monk
Rests on the leaves
That are red.
The maple pattern
Is being woven into a cross amulet—
It’s the one thing that he’s held.
In his prayers
He’s carried through his days
The name of his God in praise.
And what do I gain
From his words so bold?
What does he gain, people,
From these verses told?
He has his Bible,
He has its lines.
Take it and read it,
Say your signs.
My words are harsh
And firm,
Sharp, true,
Like thorns that squirm.
The wind just blows,
It casts the seeds,
Sowing dandelions for future deeds
Dandelions dream
DANDELIONS DREAM
The white dandelions dream of snow,
The yellow ones dream of sun and heat.
They don’t care ‘bout slippery ice below.
Distant vastness are
Like wings of a stork
With black spots.
A moment and flying:
The white are soaring into the sky,
The yellow will ripen
And take flight…
Snow embraces
The planet.
Buddhist temples
BUDDHIST TEMPLES
The stars burn out again in the sky,
Falling as ashes behind the clouds.
We and Ye have lifted our gaze on high
To see the Buddhist temples’ bounds.
I’ve sown dandelions on Himalayan sand,
In marigolds, as mother has ever shown.
What a relief! — I am not in my land,
In saffron robes I won’t be ever known.
Setting cross-legged, I gaze into the abyss,
“Oy Vershe Miy, Vershe” they sang in refrain.
I am not punished for rhymes that are amiss,
For I am from Ukraine, Parvati’s domain.
At my home, Shiva dances on sight.
Vishnu takes three steps each day,
And old Brahma, for comic delight,
On one leg, makes the hopak’s sway.
But the ancient epic will not be penned,
No one will recall the eternal feast.
As soon as the *** crows to the end,
The stars will fade, the dawn is released.
💳 Support of the author - 4441 1144 2483 1947 - Monobank
