“The Shockwave of Immigration” and “The Artist and The Beekeeper”

Взрывная волна эмиграции

Говорят, что два снаряда
Не попадают в одну и ту же воронку,
Но нас обоих отбросило
Взрывной волной
В одну и ту же страну
С точностью до квартиры.

Нас прибило друг к другу
Приливом чувств,
Прибоем третьей волны,
Вышедшей из берегов,
С точностью до общей культуры.

Нас подогнало друг к другу
Подобно портному, время
С точностью до секунды.

Нас привили друг к другу
Как саженцы прививают
В саду из странных гибридов,
Причудливых парадоксов,
С точностью до общих судеб.

Наши предки погибли похоже,
В Бухенвальдах или Гулагах,
С точностью до одной и той же войны.

Две наши записки,
Вложенные в стену плача,
Среди множества писем,
Полных разных желаний,
Притерты друг к другу так близко, что буквы слились
В одну молитву,
Чтоб в цель попадали снаряды
С точностью до наоборот.
The Shockwave of Immigration

Some say that two shells
Can’t end up in the same shell crater.
Yet, we were both thrown
By the shockwave
Into the same foreign country,
Precisely to the same apartment.

We had to fight through
The tidal wave of emotion,
Thrown together by the undercurrent of
the immigration’s “Third Wave”,
Precisely to the same culture.

We went through the same alteration
Performed by Time, a hell of a tailor,
Precisely to a second.

We were cross-pollinated
Like saplings in a garden
Of strange hybrids,
Bizarre paradoxes
Precisely to a shared biography.

It seems that our ancestors perished
In the same Buchenwalds or Gulags,
Precisely to that same war.

Our two notes,
That have been inserted in the Wailing Wall
Among many others,
With many different wishes,
Stick to each other so that letters merge
Forming a single prayer,
To have our shells aim with precision -
Precisely the other way around.

Художник и пасечник

Пасечник ставит рамочки в улей,
к осени их вынимает
полными мёда.
Пчёлы слетаются к алым цветкам,
нектар собирая.
Также и я -
ставлю подрамник в этюдник,
а после его вынимаю
с холстом, пропитанным мёдом,
снятым с осенней листвы,
к которой слетаются кисточки и мастихины,
как будто на краску с палитры.
Можно в сезон снять по два, по три урожая!
Пчёлы, читая книгу природы,
в ней оставляют закладки.
Также и я,
ставлю в альбоме заглядки,
листая рассветы, закаты,
грома раскаты,
приливы, отливы, птичьи улёты.
Небесные соты.
Пасечнику говорю - мёд у тебя объеденье.
Он мне - холсты у тебя загляденье.
Улей же свой я ношу с собой.
Кисти жужжат, но не жалят.
Солнечный мёд.
The Artist and The Beekeeper

The beekeeper lowers frames into a hive,
by autumn he pulls them out
overflown with honey.
Bees flock to the scarlet blooms,
collecting nectar.
And so do I -
I lower my stretcher in a sketchbook,
and later I pull it out
as a canvas soaked in honey,
skimmed off the autumn foliage,
to which brushes and palette knives flock,
as if leaves were regular paints.
You can collect two or three harvests in a season!
Bees, reading the book of nature,
leave behind their bookmarks.
So do I -
I mark the album with glance-marks,
flipping through sunrises, sunsets,
thunderclaps,
in-tides and out-tides, goings of birds.
Sky-hives.
I say to the beekeeper, your honey is art.
He replies, your canvases taste yum.
Here, with me, is my beehive.
Paintbrushes buzz but don’t sting.
My honey shines like the sun.

Inessa Rozenfeld and Galina Itskovich

Three Questions for Inessa Rozenfeld

What inspired your choice of medium(s), genre(s), and/or form(s) for the work?

Poetry and painting seemed to have chosen me. This was facilitated by the flourishing of culture in the 90-80s and communication in the intelligentsia environment in my hometown of Odessa. These were the years of my childhood and youth. An artist is my profession. In poetry I express my feelings and thoughts that cannot be drawn.

My favorite genre is a portrait, it allows you to understand the soul of a person, to conduct a psychological analysis of the personality. The facial expressions of a person allow you to penetrate his emotions. Free verse is most suitable for poetry in emigration. It allows you to express a mental breakdown, uncertainty in your fate, inconsistency of rhythm, unexpected plot twists.

What was your creative process?

The creative process was very intense, I was inspired by the works of old masters, impressionists and surrealists almost in equal measure. I was very attracted by the works of Marc Chagall. At first it seemed to me that the artist's skill could only be demonstrated in realistic painting and graphics. Gradually, I came to understand that in modern painting there is no less scope for creativity and mastery, that it is a different language of art. It pains me to see that in Europe in our time the traditional school of painting is not developing at all. Despite the fact that the artistic heritage is treated very carefully and attentively. Both of us, my husband and I, found ourselves isolated, and we only met like-minded people in the art world among emigrants. In Ukraine, such a school has survived, but it exists in appalling material conditions, and in constant danger of bombing.

What is the significance of this work to you?

Today, art for me is not only a means of expressing emotions, not only develops the mind, but is also a weapon in the information war. In exile in Europe this is urgently needed. I saw the tears of the audience, heard words of gratitude, received many reviews. This means a lot to me, no doubt. Actually, this is what makes up the meaning of life.

Three Questions for Galina Itskovich

What drew you to this particular medium / genre as a translator?

I instantly loved these two poems by Inessa who I met at the literary festival in Belgium 9 years ago. They feel like two opposite ends of her artistic and personal spectrum. "The Shockwave" has this acceleration, this powerful center that sucks in both characters, and it feels true to the rhythms and beats of immigration as a life-changing experience. The second poem is so serene and contemplative; she has earned her right to reflect and to be in the moment. 

What was your creative process?

"The Shockwave" was easy to translate because of the nerve, the beat that holds the whole piece together. My job was to listen to it and just continue in English. "The Artist and The Beekeeper" has inner rhymes and call-and-response structure. It was important to capture it in the translation.

What is the significance of this work to you?

We come from the same city, Inessa and I. Translating her work was like visiting my childhood home. She is an uniquely Odesan artist.

Inessa Rozenfeld was born in Odesa, Ukraine in 1969. Her father was a ghetto survivor, and this knowledge shaped her early years. Inessa’s dream of becoming a professional artist was met with obstacles of single parenthood and overall financial hardships of the 90’s. She was almost 30 when she finally graduated from the Grekov Odesa Art School. In 2003, she immigrated to Germany with her parents and daughter. After immigration, she began to write poetry, initially to supplement her artwork. She met her husband Yury, a physicist and artist, the same year. With the beginning of the Russian invasion into Ukraine, Inessa, originally a Russophone, started to write in Ukrainian, allowing languages to freely intertwine and supplement each other. Currently, Inessa teaches art and illustrates books. She authored one poetry book (in Russian and Ukrainian).

Galina Itskovich, born and raised in Odesa, Ukraine, has lived in New York City since 1991. Her poems, essays, translations and prose recently appeared in Nashville Review, Poet Lore, Asymptote, EastWest Literary Forum, Harpy Hybrid Review and elsewhere. She has numerous publications in Russophone journals and almanacs.

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