Yevhen Ovcharyk / Ternopil, Ukraine

“The wounded brick”.
This is a heart. In it, there is a crater
Where calm and sorrow rest.
Of nettle are the shirts
That you weave in the night.
Time oozes out so lightly
From the spirited clay.
Tell me who we are
And where we were.
The blossom falling from the cherry trees,
Will fill the craters and abysses.
What matters after all–
Is where you are today. / From a poem by Kateryna Kalytko.