OUR MOTO.
OUR MOTO.
OUR MOTO.
Like 43 years ago, and 83, and 108, as many times in the past, today the world has woken up in anxious anticipation that the war has come to its door. The world woke up and cried.

Times are changing, bridges, roads, underground canals are being built, people are making their way under water, underground and into the air, but they are still ready to kill each other on someone's orders.

We, poets, know that the main weapon is the word. It kills as well as a bullet, but it also brings you back to life. The word is the strongest pill, and today, wounded right in the heart of the declared war, we apply it to the most painful points in the hope that the ties between old friends and loved ones will not break, that the wounds that have already been inflicted and future wounds will not fester and heal.

There are times when there are not enough words to say even the simplest, but so important. Belarusians are familiar with this condition. And when we could not speak, our Ukrainian friends spoke for us, about us and in our words. Now it's our time to talk. A time of solidarity and unity.

Our solidarity and support to the freedom-loving Ukrainian people. One day, the darkness over your and our home will dissipate. One day we will wake up and breathe freely. One day, the word "weapon" will no longer be needed. One day all other words will teach us to love.

Glory to Ukraine!


Photo: Maxim Kondratiev, Nasta Antsimonik

/ AND WHERE CAN THE AIR IN THE LUNGS COME FROM?..
TRANSLATED BY ANDREJ KHADANOVICH
*for Ukraine and about Ukraine with love
MAKE POETRY, NOT WAR
TRANSLATIONS OF POEMS BY DARYNA GLADUN & LESIK PANASYUK
We will wait!
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