Olga Bragina, a Ukrainian poet, novelist, essayist, and translator, wrote this poem in 2023, a year after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine began. She has published five collections of poetry, a book of short stories, and a novel. Her poetry has been translated into 22 languages. The original Russian follows the English translation by Olga Zilberbourg.
we didn’t actually know anything a year ago the explosions sounded we heard they were close but we didn’t know where
by day things were even calm we went to the store there was a line on the street they let in a few people at a time yet the store was open
the pharmacies indeed were closed because they were sold out
I’d read on Facebook that the trains were bombed that people rode standing up and I said no we won’t leave yet
so we went to the store by day and by night listened to the explosions
on the tenth day I said and now I’m actually curious what happens next
it meant that we had to survive until that “next” thing
we didn’t know anything a year ago about the russian tank in Obolon
only as we got into the car the driver showed us the place hit by the first missile
I don’t even remember where that place was Kyiv was so empty for the first time there were no traffic jams
so empty and sunny no people on the street at all only checkpoints on the way
actually I got used to the explosions in a Polish village I kept looking up at the sky and asking where are these planes heading
where are these jet planes heading
and what does it signify for two planes to nearly collide in the sky as it seems to us from here on earth
год назад мы не знали на самом деле ничего взрывы звучали было слышно что рядом но где непонятно
днем даже было спокойно мы ходили в магазин там стояла очередь на улице запускали по несколько человек но магазин работал
вот аптеки закрылись потому что всё раскупили
я прочитала в фейсбуке что бомбят поезда что люди едут стоя сказала нет мы пока не поедем
так вот днем выходили в магазин ночью слушали взрывы
на десятый день я сказала а теперь мне уже интересно что будет дальше
значит до этого “дальше” надо дожить
год назад мы не знали ничего не знали про русский танк на Оболони
только когда ехали на машине нам показали место куда попала первая ракета
я даже не помню где это место Киев был такой пустой впервые без пробок
такой пустой и солнечный совсем без людей на улицах только блокпосты на дороге
на самом деле я привыкла к взрывам в польской деревне всё время смотрела на небо и спрашивала а куда летят эти самолеты
а куда летят эти реактивные самолеты
и что это за знак что два самолета почти столкнулись в небе как нам кажется отсюда с земли
About the Author
Olga Bragina is a Ukrainian poet, novelist, essayist, and translator. She was born in Kyiv in 1982 and graduated from the Kyiv National Linguistic University with a degree in translation. She has published five collections of poetry, a book of short stories, and a novel. Her poetry has been translated into 22 languages. She lives in Kyiv and is currently working on translating Czesław Miłosz and Wisława Szymborska into Ukrainian.
About the Translator
Olga Zilberbourg is a writer and author of Like Water and Other Stories (WTAW Press), a collection of short and flash fiction. Her poetry and translations have appeared in Alephi, Big Bridge anthology, roger and ezra magazines. She co-hosts the weekly San Francisco Writers Workshop, and co-runs Punctured Lines, a feminist blog about literatures of the former Soviet Union and diaspora.
