Today, March 19, is the 96th birthday of the legendary poet Lina Kostenko. On the birthday of the author, who has been inspiring generations of Ukrainians with her apt and powerful poetic words for many decades, we remember her insightful poems about love.
“We grew up on her texts — and the texts of her friends, or, conversely, ideological or poetic opponents. Our idea of poetry is largely formed either thanks to her — or in spite of her,” — this is what writer Serhiy Zhadan says about Lina Vasylivna Kostenko. It is unlikely that one can say more accurately about the legendary Ukrainian author than Zhadan did, because in fact Lina Kostenko is a symbol and personification of Ukrainian poetry of the second half of the 20th century, its most famous name, which every Ukrainian knows in any corner of our country.
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Lina Kostenko was born in Rzhyshchyov, Kyiv region, into a family of teachers. She is a poet of the sixties, a laureate of the Shevchenko Prize, an active participant in the dissident movement, the author of the poetry collections “Sail” (1958), “Journeys of the Heart” (1961), “On the Shores of the Eternal River” (1977), “Uniqueness” (1980), “Garden of Unfading Sculptures” (1987), the poem “Berestechko” and the historical novel “Marusya Churai”.
Her precise, sensual, refined poetry is a symbol of the indomitability of the Ukrainian people, and also truly popular lines that are often performed by modern musicians, read by artists, and are quoted on social networks. Below we publish the most famous poems by Lina Kostenko about love, to which you want to return.
…
With your eyes you told me: I love you.
The soul was taking its difficult exam.
Like the quiet ringing of rock crystal,
The unsaid remained unsaid.
Life went on, that platform passed.
Silence echoed through the station's loudspeaker.
Many words are written with a pen.
The unsaid remained unsaid.
The nights dawned, the days faded.
More than once fate has tipped the scales.
The words rose in me like the sun.
The unsaid remained unsaid.
…
Stop me, I'll go and go.
This kind of love happens once in a while.
She will rush over a broken life
They will obviously run after her.
She will tear our peace apart.
She burns the words with her lips.
back me back and shame me
I can still think for the last time.
I still can, but I can't anymore.
It's my turn to shine.
Will my soul freeze near you?
Will I burn in flames next to you?
…
Terrible words when they are silent,
when they suddenly hid,
when you don't know where to start,
because all the words were already someone else's.
Someone cried, suffered, ached with them,
I started with them and ended with them.
Billions of people and billions of words,
and you have to pronounce them for the first time!
Everything repeated itself: both beauty and ugliness.
Everything was there: asphalt and dirt roads.
Poetry is always unique,
some immortal touch to the soul.
…
My love! I am before you.
Take me into your blissful dreams.
Just don't make me an obedient slave,
Don't deceive and don't promise wings!
Don't let the world come together like a wedge,
and don't dream about what I live for.
Grant me a poplar path
the ancient mace of the heavy sun.
Don't let me get tangled up in trifles,
Don't trade for bumps in the road,
for the bones will turn over in the tombs
my bitter and proud great-grandfathers.
And they had love, like mine,
and their world was darkened by love.
And their women grabbed the stirrups,
But what can you do? Just go to the gate.
And there, and there… The fierce clatter of battle
and the clang of swords until the third spring…
My love! I am before you.
Take me into your blissful dreams.
…
You are so silent that you can overhear,
drown in soft silence.
And if it weren't so worrying,
That would be wonderful for me.
I don't know if you're handsome,
and are you alone in the world?
You are like a real miracle to me,
which arose without reason.
But in my heart there is a warning,
and the word breaks out: “Go”
Our paths crossed late.
There are already other traces on them.
I believe in your heart and will,
I believe in the truth of your eyes.
I know: you would never stumble
about the stones of my roads.