"Jogging," a Poetry Reading and Discussion

Andriy Bondar is a Kyiv-based poet, translator, literary critic, and publicist, born in 1974 in Kamianets-Podilskyi. He holds a Master's Degree in Philology from the Kyiv-Mohyla Academy. He is the author of three collections of poetry: Vesinnia yeres [Spring Heresy], Istyna i med [Truth and Honey], and Prymityvni formy vlasnosti [Primitive Forms of Ownership]. He has recently published translations of various Polish authors, including Witold Gombrowicz, Michal Witkowski, Marek Lawrynowicz and Pawel Smolenski. His essays and articles appear regularly in leading intellectual journals and newspapers in Ukraine. He served as Editor-in-Chief for Literatura-plius, the newspaper of the Association of Ukrainian Writers, from 1998-2000. He was also a long-time editor and columnist for the literature section of Dzerkalo Tyzhnia. Currently, his column is featured in the daily Gazeta po-ukrainsky.

A selection of poems by Andriy Bondar

Slavic gods

slavic gods play dominoes
on the battered tables of their lost homeland
they are destined to eternally lay down the tiles
separate wheat from chaff
turn water into wine
and wine into vinegar

slavic gods breathing their last breaths
are comfortably aware of their inability
to deal with today's climate
they remember the good old days before Christ
when sausage was cheap yogurt cost 11 cents
televisions could be had on credit and there was total confidence
in the days to come

slavic gods quickly lose their tempers
when someone infringes
on their remaining privileges:
memories of questionable victories
subjugation of women and the humiliation of their men
lines public toilets
mineral water for hangovers

slavic gods leave their fingerprints
on tonsils as they pull from mouths
gold crowns with bits of food splinters of sunken ships
hopes for a better life memories of losses
fragments of military marches

slavic gods forget about
their unrelenting atheism only in dreams
and start to believe in god's greater plan
the influence of sun spots and social justice
as they quietly die of happiness

Translated by Virlana Tkacz and Wanda Phipps

just don't push me away

behind my wall lives a modern belarusian sculptor
every day he drinks half a bottle of vodka
and still does not look like an alcoholic
andriy – his name is andriy too –
is a very spiritual person no joke
what jokes can there be if you have to drink half a bottle of vodka daily
and not to be an alcoholic at the same time
what jokes can there be?

he goes to bed very early and wakes up very early and thus
our communication is limited to three evening hours
but this is fully sufficient
to open up souls to each other
and why should we be ashamed of our souls?

what do we have to open to each other
if not our souls?
any other conversation with him turns into a mockery
sometimes it seems to me that compared to him I look
incurably soulless
I am simply a soullessness champion
compared to him

he is simple too simple in his daily life
far simpler than I
than any of my acquaintances
he goes to his studio in the morning leaving behind
the smell of simple eggs fried in simple lard
it is a joy for me to wake up and sense this simple smell
of the modern belarusian sculptor andriy

he is even talented in some otherworldly way
"grab a power tool and pound away" he jokes and laughs at his own joke
he works far more than I – from eight to five
and then comes home and drinks
and wonders why I don't drink and starts opening to me
his soul
and then goes to sleep
just simply goes to sleep with an open soul

every night I'm scared of his sleepy screams
I think this is his open soul screaming
when in its sleep it overcomes the resistance of the material
pours wax into forms tones the bronze creates the patina

sometimes I start fantasizing
that he is my husband and I'm his wife
we sleep in separate rooms because
he is afraid of scaring me with his open soul

every night I wait for him to come back from the studio
all exhausted and then open his bottle of vodka
and I will give him something tasty to eat
say mashed potatoes with milk and butter

and we'll make hot tea for ourselves
and he will again start opening his soul to me
grumble at modern art and ask for forgiveness for
disturbing me

and I always want to calm him down and I start
calming him down no what are you saying
don't even think this don't even think
lean on me don't push away just don't push me away

Translated by Vitaly Chernetsky

Robbie Williams

"why are they all looking at me?
could they know that I am ukrainian" - I always wonder
as I enter another bar
"could it be so obvious could it could it be so
could it be so obvious that I am ukrainian"

I take off my jacket (an imported one german I believe but no one wears them here)
I leave on my jeans purchased here this year
I leave on my sweater manufactured in the country of Peru
a sweater - made of fine alpaca wool
it's of high quality and comfortable but no one wears them here
I leave on my american glasses
what else?
the shoes are somewhat sporty - they were in fashion four years ago

my look is hopeless
or maybe it just seems that way to me?
my mood wavers between fervent patriotism and punching someone in the face
but that would blow my cover

"only ukrainians can just punch someone in the face like that" -
they suppose and they do have a point there
"only ukrainians can sing so beautifully" -
they suppose and they do have a point there
("ok, no singing today" - I decide)
"only ukrainians can undress you with their eyes like that" -
they suppose and they're not mistaken
"only ukrainians could slaughter so many of us
in such a short period of time"
they suppose and they're not mistaken

in such a short period of time only ukrainians could

I've got half an hour
to fulfill my historic mission

what can I accomplish in a half hour's time over a pint of beer?

analyze the events of today
just another day for a ukrainian in poland
and come to a self-satisfying conclusion:

"they simply like me for who I am"

and I return the favor by buying another beer

and robbie williams for the tenth time today tells me what it is he needs
from life:

"I just wanna feel real love" - robbie williams sings

he and I need the same thing

today I won't punch anyone in the face -
I take a step towards ukrainian-polish reconciliation
and I smile like no one here can

they can clearly see my teeth a row of healthy white ukrainian teeth
no one has teeth like that here

Translated by Mark Andryczyk