Vasyl Makhno - AVENIDA CERVANTES

Translated from the Ukrainian by Orest Popovych

almost in a straight line runs Avenida Cervantes
the smell of linen long stored in a closet
the cries of birds that fly with a cloud of dust
a dog with a lame leg
verses that hover in the air
- the voice of the departed Whitney -

rough walls - a gluey orange
from here you can't see the volcano Mumbacho
clattering buggies - into the horse's ears
flow the orchestras and the attire of February
and the carnival which can be heard around the corner
- all this will change nothing -

coffee is brewing and grains are roasting
the beer tastes like the coolness of a lake
in the evening again the readings before hundreds
again the street people will beg for money
the night paints lips and eyebrows
- of the river smells Bronwyn -

a blackened church - an aging Madonna
nearby they also opened a McDonald's
everywhere winter and provincial doldrums
young prostitutes cheapen the prices
midnight is guarded by the infantas of Inessa
- with their sultry whispers: beso -

a few butterflies having worn out their wings
also hurry to change their attire
settling down on a woman's black hair
like red flowers or a retinue
and it's not right to let go of the woman
who wants to frolic like a butterfly

an almost empty Avenida Cervantes
local people leave to pick oranges
others stand in line for the carnival
I stand by the wall thus expecting nothing
I don't belong here - I don't know where to stand
- there's no one even to ask -

I hurry because soon it will start
the first column will surge forward
death's statue with a scythe in thick woven cloth
a puppet spinning on a pole
the rustle of skirts over sweaty calves
- you scrutinize with wide-open eyes -

and the carnival finally did move
each beauty is holding a rose
dark musicians fly above the town
the sounds run over like rising dough
so with the dust cloud and the wormy sounds
- it's best for me to become a shoe -

Vasyl Makhno - RETURNING TO GRANADA

To Bronwyn Lea

On the Plaza de la Independencia - Bronwyn
warm air has filled our lungs
the only way out - is to inhale some more
the taste of tangerine - tongue between the teeth
all that will remain between us
is the time in this poem

Bronwyn - here time exists in the voices of revolutions
later these streets will be named after them
later the ladies of the night for three bucks
later the bands trumpeting halfway through the night
and there is so little time
to talk with you about poetry

Bronwyn - toss a sentavo into the fountain
perhaps we'll return here - it's like a security deposit
this street urchin who's fooling and hassling us
knows that all of this life is transitory
for this you don't even have to be a prophet
nor a poet

Bronwyn - let's follow the carnival
why should we hide - we've stolen nothing
in a town where they trade in love
anything can happen - so many people
the streets are pressing heavily upon us - this draft
of words that I share with you

Bronwyn - you say it's impossible
we won't come here - only torrents will come
- like scabby dogs in green attire -
they'll detect our trail fading in the sky
they will seize this thread - these February verses
those that belong to us both

Bronwyn - if I arrive together with the dogs
try to wait for me somewhere between the years
wait at the Alhambra - I know the way
I know this place - these walls and the terrace
the horses and buggies on de la Plaza
the red streamers - rojo -

Bronwyn - the locals know us by sight
maybe above the table there will be a name plate
here they love poets even after death
I am staring at the starlit sky
by now you are flying up to Australia
it's a good thing we are mortals after all

Translated by Orest Popovych

Vasyl Makhno - SOLA MUJER*

Translated from the Ukrainian by Orest Popovych

They are - musicians, a soccer team
heavy bracelets - rings - Che Guevara t-shirts
their music a ballad - shalalala
while she has lipstick smooched off her lips
and a tattoo snaking on her shoulder

They play the hits of new compositions:
saxophone, trombone, their sounds - like mosquitos
she senses with the body of a female
the stare hooked upon the stocking on her calf
like a crow's claw

she joined them only recently
ordered coffee - and was caught unaware by nightfall
she seized upon the rain - like a knife -
and the guitarist - seized the music that appeared in his dream
with the strings of her legs

behind her are studies in the capital - three years
parents who once discovered Marxism
shadowy affairs bright paths - you're a student
white tile warm jacuzzi:
Simon Bolivar, Lenin and Stalin

the dumbbells smell of wine and coffee
a song with vile words and motif
she opened her tail like a royal peahen
but amidst love sex and play
a condom just in case

she picked up the motif like a feather
she was picked up by a real war
dilated nostrils - the whiff of cocaine
for the revolution in the south of the country
for the stench of cow manure

for the fact that life - it's love and percentages
for the fact that she's still forty - and not fifty
catching ultrashort waves
the news hisses about murders and narcotics
and her Volkswagen-Passat won't start

*A lonely woman