Chernobyl

               
   Creation of the gifted florists
   Away from Kiev border post
   There was small village being lost
   Among the meadows and forests
   With twenty tidy huts at most.

   There were around lots of cherries
   And skylarks saddling up the breeze
   Were singing under curly fleece
   Before to tast the sweet red berries
   Which covered thick the branchy trees.
 
   Wellknown over Kiev markets
   Because of great bee-keeper"s skill
   In spring this village used to fill
   A lot of fragrant honey buskets
   And thanked for that the Fortune"s Wheel.

   There always has been something noble
   In native nature and in men
   But suddenly there came the ban
   Brought in this world by stern Chernobyl,
   A lot of years flew past since then.

   The forest since began to wither,
   In summer morning birds don"t sing,
   Tuck roar of elk long doesn"t clink,
   So faded even seems the ether
   And only moss is pleased with spring.

   Somewhere still live old peasants toothless
   Neglected huts, stray dogs to tramp,
   The sombre cobweb in and damp
   There time to be forever ruthless
   Is going by its heavy clamp.


                Kiev, 2011