Bogdan-ihor antonych. a bee. ua-en

Лисніє липовий, липневий липець,
липучий і лискучий в білім збанку.
В нім розтопились зорі на світанку
і пахощі левад, квітчастих китиць.

Над озером пахучим, золотавим
дзеленькає маленькая бджола.
На брезклі брижі жовтого чола
лягає тінь її пружком імлавим.

Мов квітка, розхиляє, п’яна цукром,
крил пелюстки, а рідина густа
маленькі ніженьки хватає цупко.

І крильцями пішла розпуки трясця,
над ними мед замкнувся, мов уста.
Ось так вбиває часом власне щастя.

 © Bogdan-Ihor Antonych

A jitter-jamming-javelline July
Is thrilling-thoroughly-tremendously white-heated.
It slowly melts the stars which, barely beating,
Spread all the scents of meadows and posh rye.

Above a lake, so glowing, slightly gilded,
A tiny bee keep ringing in the air.
Its yellow face drops shadows, brusque and heated,
And then it hides in depths of Sun's despair.

It now displays a look of being drowsy,
With mighty petals trembling under thin
And crafty legs - they keep a bent sight-seeing
Above the flower. What a sentiment!

It goes on trembling with a rhythmic sorrow,
And slowly drowning, honey dripping while
Enormous happiness by pain can soon be followed,

And summer's lips are joined in their exile.

© Bogdan-Ihor Antonych published by a Ukrainian online library
© Translated into English by Maryna Tchianova

NB! Dear critics! This translation doesn't aim to convert all the terms one into another directly. The translator did her best to adorn the original version of the poem with new tropes and  a subtle change of tone.

This translation is devoted to Helen Zimnyya, a translator from Kyiv and a Hispanic literature and culture expert, as well as to my lucky coevals Dmytro Chystiak and Midna, who, during all those years after the Euromaidan, have been sacrifing their time and effort to raising the consciousness of their countryfellows and generation-mates.

Long live Ukraine! Long live progress!