POETRY BY VYACHESLAV KONOVAL

Vyacheslav Konoval is a Ukrainian poet whose work is devoted to the most pressing social problems of our time, such as poverty, ecology, relations between the people and the government, and war.

His poems have appeared in many magazines and have been read at meetings of various poetry groups. He is a member of the Federation of Scottish Writers.

Vyacheslav says: “From the beginning of the full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine, even until today, I remain in the capital of Ukraine, the city of Kyiv. I am a witness to Russia’s harsh and cruel aggression towards Ukraine. My house is located close to the last artillery battle in Kyiv. 

“Taking into account the powerful influence of Russian propaganda in the world, my goal as a creator is to describe, as lyrically as possible, the horrors of this war and dispel the strong myth in the world of «good Russians».

“Politicians work with diplomats, and I work with readers. That is my mission.”

WHAT ARE YOU DYING FOR, WARRIOR?

You went to the front without regret,
on the road to freedom to defend the earth,
now, you lie wounded in an unequal battle,
an hour that flows like water into the desert.

You must be in pain, brother,
a burning leg, half an arm with fragments,
the volunteer’s eyes will see the body in the smoke;
to take a chance at the hospital.

If you knew what was happening in the rear?
Ukrainians want to live under the sun,
a pity them for work,
a measly penny, and a red coin.

RUSSIAN CANNIBALS

From the Caspian pool, enemy-pushed rockets;
it used airplanes to deliver gifts,
as always civilians,
heh, this is God’s gift!

The neighbor is not stingy,
covers my land by the Iskanders and X’ams shells
demolishes a cruise missile
in half of the 3 entrances of the household.

Well, I can’t come to inferior senses.
Having destroyed the Ukrainian families,
ballistics and Russian soldiers
without feelings, without reason—
commoners from Khanty-Mansiysk town.

The first ten dead…
a few hours and the next one
followed the second death,
proud barbarian in epaulettes,
the Tuvan beast is insidious.

WHEN WILL THE FOG OF THE YEAR CLEAR?

Every day pain;
an hour-free turmoil turns the page,
Moscow’s shadow,
it will say nauseatingly: «Before the rod».

On weekdays, wander through the field,
like pieces of space debris
workers are bees.

Does a comet or an asteroid destroy ozone?
And when will the summer fog clear?
When the Moscow humanoids die.

LILAC RAINBOW

Hid in the bosom of an acacia tree
a pinkish lilac wave,
with fragrant bells,
and with it a green leaf.

The skillful sparrows
shakes it branches
«Pluck a pink flower»,
the singers shout.

Rainbow flies pester
of the striped bumblebee
to feel a taste of honey.