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Maryna Tchianova Poem
Love divine
How it burns when it falls from the sky -
how it hurts when the water is done.
How it rains with the words half-denied,
When the world looks for fabulous suns.
How it aches when the feeling's away
from the roads that are fast and are clean.
How it roars when the lights are insane,
how they fatefully touch our skin.
How I pray for this love not to fade,
How I look for your eyes in the woods,
How we crave for emotional shade,
In each other we find our roots.
Profane love
When the touch dumbs us down -
when the shadows arise,
When in passion we drown,
when there's evil disguised.
When your kiss, black as night,
slowly turns on my key,
when your arms, full of might,
burn my fragility,
When we're fruitful and hot,
when we're lost in our dreams,
When we're tied with love's knots,
So profane we might seem.
06.05.2016
(c) Maryna Tchianova, Ukraine
Copyright © Maryna Tchianova | Year Posted 2016
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Maryna Tchianova Poem
Silently she waits,
wearing a crest of a wave on her finger.
The night will erase all the meaningless fears.
Silently she dares
to break all the obstacles unforeseen,
to dive into the truth
that is far from luxurious.
Silently she realizes
that part of her fault is in building a world of hypocrisy.
Silently she dreams
of becoming younger.
Silently she falls asleep
between Achilles and Odysseus,
counting the reasons for blindness.
Silently she melts the ice
of her tranquility
in a solar whirlpool
that must eradicate her as well,
but it won’t.
Copyright © Maryna Tchianova | Year Posted 2016
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Maryna Tchianova Poem
I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name;
There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame;
But the tear that now burns on my cheek may impart
The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart.
Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace,
Were those hours - can their joy or their bitterness cease?
We repent, we abjure, we will break from our chain, -
We will part, we will fly to - unite it again!
Oh! thine be the gladness, and mine be the guilt!
Forgive me, adored one! - forsake if thou wilt;
But the heart which is thine shall expire undebased,
And man shall not break it - whatever thou may'st.
And stern to the haughty, but humble to thee,
This soul in its bitterest blackness shall be;
And our days seem as swift, and our moments more sweet,
With thee at my side, than with worlds at our feet.
One sigh of thy sorrow, one look of thy love,
Shall turn me or fix, shall reward or reprove.
And the heartless may wonder at all I resign -
Thy lips shall reply, not to them, but to mine
?? ??????, ?? ????? ? ?? ???????? -
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????? ??????? ?????????? ??????? ??? ???,
? ???????? ???? ????????? ???.
??? ???? ?? ?????? - ?? ??????? ?? ?????
?? ???????, ??????????, ???? ????????
?????'????? ?????. ????? ???! ???????!
?, ??????? ???? ?? ???????? ????!
?, ??????, ??? ??????????. ?? ????? - ??????!
? ???? ????? ???? ??????????? ????,
? ???? ?????????. ??????????? ????
???????? ??????? ???????. ?? ?
??? ?????? ? ??????? ?? ???????? ????,
? ???? ? ????????. ??? ? ?? ?????!
???? ??? ????????????, ? ???? - ?? ???.
?? ?? ??????? ????? ???? ????????!
???, ??????????? ???? ?? ??? ?????? ?????.
?? ???????? ??????? ?????????? ????.
???? ????? ????, ?????? - ?? ?????. ? ????.
??????? ?? ???????. ????? ?? ??????!
??????????? ????????, ?? ??????? ????.
?? ????? ???? ???????? ?? ???? ????!
(?) Maryna Tchianova 2016
Honourably devoted to George Gordon Byron,
The UK, the US and Ukraine,
with deep respect for all the aforenamed literatures and faith in the Ukrainian nation through the thick and thin.
Copyright © Maryna Tchianova | Year Posted 2016
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Maryna Tchianova Poem
I see people. They walk like trees.
As if everyone was in himself and for himself.
A kind of a human forest.
I may be a tree too, although without roots or fruit
but for the others I am nothing and no one.
Each tree`s eyes fall down.
To see clearly and vividly in everyone
how you grow like love within,
flourish like life
give birth to fruit of humanity.
Give me such eyes that could see You in the other world,
where there are not so much
eyes that have vision
and are not only open.
We grow from one land,
go to another
but on Earth we can be
the basis to the Sky.
I want to see a human being
In me and someone else.
I have no roots but I stretch my branches for us to become roots for each other.
Copyright © Maryna Tchianova | Year Posted 2018
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Maryna Tchianova Poem
Hail to the thieves
that retrieve
lost trees.
Hey! Where do you disappear?
Hail to the piercing taste of a pear.
Hey! Why do you gaze at me so?
I don't need reality unless it's mine.
Talk to me.
Talk to me.
Take your time and sigh.
See the world redesigned.
Then let it go.
Sell sunbeams in a crisis.
Talk to the stones that turn.
Touch the rhythm and burn with it.
Celebrate both victory and defeat.
See what's featured in the cosmic menu.
Among all the amenities I obtain you.
The art of grabbing without touching.
The art of dreaming without falling asleep.
The art of loathing without telling.
The art that picks the hip from the heaps
of all their winnings.
The art of elusive light.
The art of being close tonight
and disappearing tomorrow.
The art of 'have-a-nice-day'
with a finger on a trigger.
The art of getting miniscule
and then growing bigger.
The art that unites all nations -
the everlasting
misconception
of communication.
05/06/2016
(c) Maryna Tchianova 2016
Ukraine
Inspired by http://www.wikiart.org/en/rene-magritte/the-art-of-conversation-1950?utm_source=returned&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=referral
* * *
Sacred and profane love by Titian (1514)
Love divine
How it burns when it falls from the sky -
how it hurts when the water is done.
How it rains with the words half-denied,
When the world looks for fabulous suns.
How it aches when the feeling's away
from the roads that are fast and are clean.
How it roars when the lights are insane,
how they fatefully touch our skin.
How I pray for this love not to fade,
How I look for your eyes in the woods,
How we crave for emotional shade,
In each other we find our roots.
Profane love
When the touch dumbs us down -
when the shadows arise,
When in passion whe drown,
when there's evil disguised.
When your kiss, black as night,
slowly turns on my key,
when your arms, full of might,
burn my fragility,
When we're fruitful and hot,
when we're lost in our dreams,
When we're tied with love's knots,
So profane we might seem.
06.05.2016
Copyright © Maryna Tchianova | Year Posted 2016
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Maryna Tchianova Poem
Dare to touch me without any rules.
Dare to see the spectacular view on us
In the nearest past
Covered by shadows, covered by dust.
How passionately the wind blows away
Our words.
It hurts so much not to remember,
To feel left out of the game
When your name is an endless source of tenderness.
By watching the city I watch you.
By discovering it I caress you.
You hide like a predator in the darkness
Of the same block.
We stroke the different sides of luck.
Click. Click through everything that’s not sold.
Turn our kisses into solid gold.
With your hands you burn my previous world.
No one can go as far as you can.
No one is a cannon in this iron land.
Green and red as metaphors for broken hearts.
Our looks are curved and complicated,
A perfect manipulation is a story that runs fast but never stops.
Copyright © Maryna Tchianova | Year Posted 2016
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Maryna Tchianova Poem
How the tide rises and falls,
How the sky lightens and fails,
How the wind peacefully goes
To the zero scale it contains - zero doesn't judge, it just exists.
(c) Maryna Tchianova, Ukraine
Copyright © Maryna Tchianova | Year Posted 2016
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Maryna Tchianova Poem
www.facebook.com/ana.nomaren - ?????? ???????? ???????????.
????????? ?? ???? ????????.
????????????.
? - ??????????? ????????? ???????? ?????????.
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???????????.
? - ?????, ?? ????? ???????? ?????????? ????? ? ????.
??????????? ?? ???, ??
????? 21-?? ????????
? ????? ?????? ????? - ? ????? ?? "?????".
???????????.
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"???????" - ?? ??????? ?? ???.
?????? ???? ?? ???? ?????????? ???? ?????????? ????????.
??????????? ?? ???, ??
? - ?????? ???? ??????????,
????????? ??????? ?????????? ???????.
The decency.
With relation to the horizon I am a walking vertical.
I justify it by standing in a line of the same lines
near a coffee boot.
I will certainly be punished for behaving differently
from the ideal of straightness.
I pretend not to understand that
'there' coffee is not sold.
Closeness.
I am a cathetus that exists
in relation to location and time.
I justify myself by
the fact that it is the 21st century now,
and the ideal of a straght line is standing in a line for coffee.
The presence.
I don't imagine myself out of the lexeme 'to be'.
'not being' is not an antonym to it.
I finally don't get to decide about my accidental neighborhood.
I justify it only by the fact that
I am just a shadow of the substance
conditioned by false random light.
(?) Ana Nomaren
Translated into English by Maryna Tchianova . Written by Ana Nomaren (a poet) in Kyiv, Ukraine
Copyright © Maryna Tchianova | Year Posted 2018
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Maryna Tchianova Poem
Dedication
The world falls apart.
The world is your hands stretched when
Something within me is a rock worth climbing.
When the reality is worth inhaling.
When the Moon cuts the sanity with its light.
I cannot quit.
I wish I could.
I cannot quit.
I wish I could.
I cannot depict what’s going on.
I wish I could.
We fit perfectly
like fire and black soil,
like disaster and silence,
like pain and victory,
like solemn July nights
and gruesome routine.
I wish I could find shelter
and conceal my haughtiness from the past,
our questions revealing the dark side of being,
our routes unknown.
In my life’s equation
you are thorn, silk and embers.
There is more to dedication than mere events.
I cannot quit.
I wish I could.
Copyright © Maryna Tchianova | Year Posted 2016
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Maryna Tchianova Poem
In a well-grounded voice
I used to explain to you
Why I'm unable to show
What I truly feel.
At that time the trees were tiny
and books were huge.
In a well-grounded voice
which I'm used to playing with
I used to lose myself to the city
I'm so sorry for
because it's not a melting pot yet.
In a well-grounded voice,
looking for an evolution privilege in your eyes,
daring to copy and recover
your thoughts,
daring to rise against you,
drifting in your own words,
but never going too far from the schedule,
I used to watch half of your dreams.
Is this getting global or personal?
I miss who we used to be.
Copyright © Maryna Tchianova | Year Posted 2018
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