İngilizce
You hear the sound of carols from afar. Bright bulbs and tinsel, cinnamon and cloves. Beyond a hill of snow you see a star.…
an American poet and the editor of The New Formalist. Born into a Roman Catholic family of Irish-Polish descent, he grew up and attended high school in Farrell, Pennsylvania, a small steel town in western Pennsylvania. He then studied History and Polish Studies at Alliance College, Cambridge Springs, Pennsylvania, receiving a BA in 1984. Later that year he travelled to Poland on a fellowship from the Kosciuszko Foundation to attend Kraków's Jagiellonian University. After the fall of the Iron Curtain in 1989, he decided to settle in Poland. He lives in Gliwice, Poland. Yankevich writes poems in both traditional metre and in syllabics, and only occasionally in free verse. He is a prolific translator, having rendered into English poems by Mikhail Lermontov, Georg Trakl, Rainer Maria Rilke, Stanislaw Grochowiak, Czeslaw Milosz, Alexander Blok, Leopold Staff, Nikolay Gumilev, Boleslaw Lesmian, and many others. He has a large Internet presence with work published in scores of online publications, ranging from The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette to Poets Against War.)
Leo Yankevich şiirleri
İngilizce
Here is a river with a little boat moored beside its bank. The boat's the colour of oranges in the south of Greece, all bloody and ripe with sweetness, while the bank's the colour…
İngilizce
The day exits through dusk, the sun on hills Angry at its going. Briar and brush, In death, like spring against the twill of fields, Through limbs and leaves amid hunger and hush,…
İngilizce
(Gleiwitz,1946) The old Romanesque church in Petersdorf, closed since the Germans left the neighbourhood,…
İngilizce
The father looks up to the sky or ceiling (beyond the grey scale of the photograph) with his son wrapped inside his cradling arms. An orderly obscures the boy’s midsection,…
İngilizce
After a long night of interrogation, followed by a thirty-minute trial, there was no doubt about it: I was guilty.…
İngilizce
Though many years have passed, and loves, I swear I can still smell the soaps this one would use. I can still see the mole on her left thigh, black eden lace against her northern s…
İngilizce
For five days the blowflies have cleansed their bones. Now they lie waiting for the August rain, for holy water, afterlives beyond Ukraine, sure heaven neither judges nor atones?…
İngilizce
I can recall her bent back in the garden, staking tomato plants and raking soil; in winter, when the bitter earth would harden, shovelling the ice and snow, her toil…
İngilizce
It comes to this: a greyness like no other under clouds uncanny as the mist. And down below, the village church so small its Sunday bells on Monday reach the crest.…
İngilizce
(after the German of Georg Trakl) The brown village. A darkness often treads Along the walls that stand in autumn. Mock-…
İngilizce
To wake again like dew upon the blades of the green meadow, like a gust of wind pushing the clouds above the forest glades, at last free from desire, no longer pinned…
İngilizce
They all have mouths that tire, bright souls that have no seams. And longing (for sin's mire) passes through their dreams.…
Amid the leaves of this his final Fall his eyes reflect the blue unminding heavens, but tell me nothing of the girl he wed while serving in the Tsar's Imperial Guard,…
İngilizce
"The death of a man is like the fall of a mighty nation..." —Czesław Miłosz He lies beneath a stone…
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