Поэт, предприниматель, преподаватель иностранных языков и культур, переводчик. Публикации в периодических изданиях: “45-я параллель”, “Сетевая словесность”, “Новая реальность”, “Русский переплёт”.
Poet, businesswoman, teacher of ferign languages and cultures, translator. Publications in periodicals: “45-ya Parallel”, “Setevaya Slovesnost”, “Novaya Realnost”, “Russkiy Pereplet”.
Перевод стихотворения Кассандры «Детство в Донбассе»
CHILDHOOD IN DONBASS
Hoary slag heaps rise like pyramids,
Poplar pyramids – across.
See the land reveal itself amidst
Make-believe Egyptian gloss.
When a nightly blackened cupola
Covers sweepingly the world,
Witness wistfully a new fall off
Of a star and say no word.
Myriads of stars dive glittering
Into waters of a pail.
Silence reigns. The dog snorts bitterly
In his nearby kennel-jail.
There in spring we used to pave the way
Through a gully, wearing gums,
Watch snapdragons on a summer day
Tricking poppies over humps.
Heavy showers would bring joy to us,
Our sandcastles rising high,
Over roofs and tower blocks would pass
Bright soap bubbles, rainbow-like.
Single-storeyed wooden houses
Still keep watch of olden times.
Paper planes, like sappy browses,
Grow on azure of the skies.
Fairy apples ripen lusciously.
Scarlet brightening breaks the night.
Boats on rivers echo rushedly
Paper-winged high-level flight.
I can still remember clearly
Open handedness of bents,
Picking kiss-me-quicks and hearing
Cattish colloquies descend
From the slopes of roofs and crowns of trees
To the bed of midnight grass.
In the fringe of sprouting round slag heaps
I recall you, my Donbass.