Nina Kook

DIGITAL CAMERAЯ - Наталия Куконина (Нина Кук) – живу в живописном прикарпатском городе Черновцы (Украина) и преподаю английский язык в университете. Пишу поэзию и прозу на украинском, русском и английском языках. Публиковалась в отечественных и зарубежных литературных сборниках и журналах. По-английски начала писать в Англии во время пребывания в Шумахер колледже при Плимутском университете.

My name is Natalia Kukonina (Nina Kook). I live in Chernivtsi – a picturesque city at the foothills of the Carpathian mountains (Ukraine) where I teach English at university.  I write poems and stories in Ukrainian, Russian and English. Some of  them were published in home and foreign periodicals and literary miscellanies. I started writing in English at Schumacher college (Plymouth University, UK) where I took a course of training.


Poems

I AM AND THE PLANET OF LOVE

 

I am water...

I’m water

Running through

Your fingers -

You can see me,

You can touch me,

You can taste me

But can’t

Catch

I’m fire

Warming up

Your frozen soul.

You can feel me,

You can trace me,

You can worship me,

But can’t

Catch

I’m a path

Lying under

Your feet.

You can take me,

You can dig me,

You can ignore me,

But can’t

Catch

I’m a bird

Sitting on

Your palm.

You can sing with me,

You can dance with me,

You can catch me,

But can’t

FLY

I am weak...

I’m weak

As a maiden

Ash-tree:

Red ear-rings,

Silky plaits...

And the Wind

An impudent fellow

Sways my slender

Resistless body...

I’m weak

As a little swallow

Bringing worms

For my hungry kids,

And the Hawk

An impudent fellow

Spreads his wings

O’er my loving flight...

I’m weak

As a dying caterpillar,

Lying quietly in

Flower’s embrace,

And the Death

An impudent fellow

Gnaws my cover

And ruins my image...

But I’m not afraid

Of this fellow,

No matter how

To call him -

Hawk, or Wind,

Or Death,

Or Brutality...

That is why

My weakness

Is blessing,

That is why

I’m STRONG.

                

MY GARMENTS

I put on myself

Everything that is at hand,

Without burrowing in wardrobes,

Choosing in vain,

And suffering for not having found…

I dress my soul in quietude,

Spilt under the sun,

And I plait scarlet satin of dawn

Into my hair,

I dip my eyes into the stars,

And instead of a funny straw hat,

Reminding of haymaking

On summer fields,

I pull the fields over my ears

To scent fresh-mown hay

And sunny silence.

And sky is my attire,

Where  soul is at ease,

And white seagulls of my poems

Are soaring on it.

Shoes? I go barefoot.

My feet dive into

The green waves of grass

And swim soundlessly

All day long, until night

Envelopes me in

The serene bliss of oblivion.

And then I don’t need any clothes,

Because I don’t exist…

 In the morning I as usual

Put on everything

That is at hand.

But first I look out the window -

It’s raining.

Fine. Silver pearl-drops

Will wind round my neck,

And I shall plait wind

Into my hair…

 

ALL LIVING  BEINGS

           Last night

           I had

           a sweetly

           painful

           dream -

            I understood

the languages of Earth:

I could speak «Green»

to forests, groves

and woods,

and «Yellow Whisper»

to the rattling wheat.

And how amazing -

I was able to sing

the azure song

with flippant babbling

Brook,

and airy lullaby

to tired Wind,

and hymn to Dawn

in concord with the Sun.

A questing Swallow

opened me her heart,

and Elephant

showered river on my head,

and Mother  Lioness

was talking of her cubs,

being indignant

with their savage games.

I comforted the lady

and confessed

my sons behaved themselves

the very way.

And I got sick and tired

of the apes

who wanted me to share

their life

and live on trees...

I found an excuse -

I didn’t have a tail

to be like them.

And panting from his run

the Wolf complained:

the Man with a disastrous

shooting stick

had been pursuing him

wanting his life.

And Father Whale,

the wisest of us all,

asked me for help,

and little milky Calf,

his starry eyes

were torturing my soul,

he also prayed for help

being doomed to death.

Oh, child!

What could I do for him?

Averted eyes. But his

were in myself.

Such was my dream,

So real,

     aching,

     sweet...

It left in me

the fragrance of the fields

and burning wounds -

the Calf’s imploring gaze...

I want to ask you,

Those who’re still asleep:

«DO YOU HAVE CHILDREN?!»

DISCOVERY

Once upon a time

There was a little Bear,

Once upon a time

There lived a little Ant.

But never

                never

                        never

They never saw each other,

And even if they did -

They didn’t know that.

When a little Ant

                                            Was looking  at the Bear,

   He thought it was a mountain

   Or at least a tree,

   He loved to climb it up,

   And he could even hear

   The roaring sounds of wood -

   The Bear’s song of glee.

   When a little Bear

   Was looking at the insect,

   He didn’t know what

   Could clever bears think.

   He thought ‘twas grain of sand,

   Or maybe drop of resin,

   Or maybe something else-

   He didn’t try to link.

   But once upon a time

   Our heroes had their birthdays,

   And they were given gifts -

   The best ones on the Earth:

   A magnifying glass

   The Ant received on Thursday,

   And Bear - microscope

   That took out his breath.

   What happened to them two-

   An earthquake or a thunder-

   I dare not be a judge,

   But they forgot themselves.

   Because

                   because

                                  because

   They saw a real wonder:

   THE BEAR AND THE ANT

   And even something else.

   That “else” was so deep,

   That “else” was more than Bear,

   That “else” was less than Ant,

   That “else” was something else,

   They couldn’t see that “else”,

   Taste, touch, or even hear,

   That “else” helped them discover

   The greatness of the Earth.

EVERYTHING

Every thing in the world has its tune.

Every tune is the basis for music.

Every music is composed of melodies,

Every melody is a combination of rhythms,

Every rhythm means changes in counting

And counting is represented by figures.

Every figure is a symbol of reality.

Reality consists of moments and events,

They last non-stop reflecting eternal beauty.

The beauty is the strokes of Nature’s brush.

It paints prodigally in different colours.

Every colour is a voice of feeling.

Every feeling gives birth to thought.

Every thought is a combination of vibrations.

Every vibration has its tune………………….

 

MORNING

Early Morning,

Sleepy and dim,

Awakens into the pink

Clothes of Dawn,

And, blushing and hurrying,

Jumps into the broad river

Of light and swims into

 Day, energetic and busy,

That after its endless run

Along the roads, paths, corridors,

Nerves, stresses, appointments,

Telephone calls, agreements

And disagreements

Sinks heavily into the armchair

Of 5 o’clock Tea,

Drinking it slowly and solemnly,

It relaxes and stretches

Into Twilight,

Changing its smart daily suit

For a dusky dressing - gown.

And, step by step,

Losing colour,

Strength and desire

Dives in the Black Sea of Night,

Meaning silence and non-existence.

Then bored and tired of

Darkness and stillness

Night goes to the bathroom,

Shuffles the leavings of gloom

Drowsiness and estrangement,

And washes off its sadness

With early morning dews.

Again, sleepy and dim,

Sometimes more –

Sometimes less,

(With this one difference)

Early morning

Awakens into the pink

Clothes of Dawn...

 And nothing can break

This ritual, even my son’s

cherished dream to miss Morning

and  wake up into Day.

We are building a Planet of LOVE.

We are building

A Planet of LOVE.

The building materials are

Our bodies and souls.

Joanna, Paul,Chris and Alice,

How beautiful is the Sky

Created of the blue light

Of your infant Eyes.

Olga, Svetlana, Bjorn, Lucia,

How bright and generous

Are the Sun Rays

Weaven out of your

Shining Hair.

Taras, Alexander, Leonardo, Orion,

How strong and powerful

Are Trees

Grown out of your Bodies.

And how quick and singing

Are the Rivers

Reflecting your smiling Souls,

Maria, Shoshana, Merche, Jean-Jacques.

Miraculous Flowers are embodiment

Of your blossoming Youth,

Thomas, Ketino, Laima, and Kazbek.

And you, Dulci, Zuzana, Michel and Hilde,

Are eternal Butterflies

Of  Hope and Peace.

High and majestic

Are the Mountains

Of your Thoughts and Dreams,

Andrea, Lothart, Pradeep, Rosa and Stephan.

And how noble and straight

Are the Roads

Of your Intentions and Deeds,

Vesna, Eliseo, Ahmed and Sophie.

We are building

A Planet of  Love,

We are growing it in our

Hearts,

We are nourishing it in our

Minds,

And sharing it with you,

        FRIEND !

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