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Syndic Literary Journal

It is already winter. So drink old wine . . .

Written by Dmytro Chystiak  

Translated from the Ukrainian by Hilary Sheers

Narrated by Srinivas Reddy   




It is already Winter. So drink old wine

In the mystery of a distant flood,

Remember the young forms of bodies,

Though it will hurt a little

Beneath the cloak of gloom-dark evenings

As in the first Spring of all – bitter

Is that sulphur river of pleas passed on,

Which I called prayers –

Now it is Winter. Floods already here.

A cold glow gleams beneath the water …

Your satin brightness shining like a star,

Its ice white blood flowing from

Your late flowering wounded jasmine,

Which lay down on my warm heart…

Snow lagged behind

I see the wine wraiths: I hear – you’re waiting,

You hear this secret vigil,

And I know: the quiet land recedes,

Soon you will return and spread

A river over the muffled sound of stones,

In wine-steeped dreams again I’ll see

Strong young shoots by light of dawn.


Compiled/Published by LeRoy Chatfield
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