7/16/24 🇺🇦 - Untitled “Hatred and sorrow” by Boris Chersonskij | read by Kirk Lawrence-Howard

“I myself crossing the line did not draw a line”
🇺🇦 - Untitled “Hatred and sorrow” by Boris Chersonskij | translated by Lyudmyla Khersonska | read by Kirk Lawrence-Howard
The tagging of an author/poet/translator does not necessarily imply their participation in this project. It simply means I wish them to know their work is appreciated by myself, and hopefully, you all.
No link is an affiliate link. I just like to promote excellent work.
Borys Chersonskij: literaturfesti...
Lyudmyla Khersonska: www.worldliter...
Poem in the KZbin comments.
BespokeVocals: bespokevocals.com
Ukraine Trustchain: www.ukrainetru...
RocMaidan (@RocMaidan): www.rocmaidan.org
For aid to Ukraine, with a 100% rating from Charity Navigator: www.directreli...
Pen Ukraine: pen.org.ua/en
Searchable list of companies that have complied or not with sanctions: som.yale.edu/s...
#BorysChersonskij #BorysKhersonski #LyudmylaKhersonska #SlavaUkraini #war #Ukraine #poem #poetry #StandWithUkraine #RussiaIsATerroristState #compassion #RocMaidan #July2024 #VoiceOver #VoiceOverActor #AstonMics #AstonSpirit #Lightricks #bespokevocals

[@bespokevocals]

Untitled "Hatred and sorrow…" by Boris Chersonskij translated by Lyudmyla Khersonska Hatred and sorrow fill every flaw, every void in the soul, and to top it all, monkeys howl in a shrinking brown grove. What a fall! Light rain, a dark road torn apart by the wind. A guard at the outpost asks, “Where do you go?” I pause trying to remember the password. Here I am, back to my fatherland. Thank Gods! I’ll burn sacrificial money at the nearest altar. Stupid head - does not give rest to the legs, stupid feet walk in vain but believe they ought to. I saw those tired of running around, I saw the impoverished, who did not ask for alms. I saw the alive for no one you meet these days has either the will or the strength to kill someone else. I myself crossing the line did not draw a line, in my soul I had nothing but hatred, and to top it all, monkeys howl and I taste blood in the mouth. It’s fine, the blood is not someone else’s, it’s my own withal. Untitled "Hatred and sorrow…" by Boris Chersonskij translated by Lyudmyla Khersonska