Хижий вихор тне ножами,
Хиже сонце тяжко спить,
Сон виткими віражами
В міражі мої летить.
Мерехтять вони — облесні,
Чесним намірам чужі,
Безсловесні, безтілесні,
Надто знадні — міражі.
© Ivan Drach, a famous Ukrainian poet
The wind keeps casting daggers
Into this solemn sky,
A predator of sunlight
Into illusions flies.
They keep on sparkling freely,
As if they're far away,
Unknown like sudden strangers,
In light and silent grace.
They are a strong temptation
For my imagination,
Their bodies made of lies
Carelessly tantalize.
© Maryna Tchianova, 2023