243574811_10223256573781609_7360322063454227406_n (1)
Gari Lait. From Those Ravines
От острых восприятий – яркий луч,
он изнутри не посягает на окрестность,
несовершенство облаков и туч,
на подсознании диктовалось с детства.
За год до танков в Праге, и конца
весны, пришедшей за полярной ночью,
мы у родителей случились, образца,
тех, кто был уничтожен среди прочих.
Из первой памяти пришёл порезом Яр,
я и сейчас ищу ответ в его оврагах,
фантомный – пулевых отверстий жар,
порой невыносим в своих зигзагах…
А в целом – генетический багаж —
у нас такой – врагам бы не приснилось,
мы потому не замечаем мелких краж,
что вечно на дороге в Саласпилс.
Экватор не сменил ориентир,
слой облаков всегда лучу уступит,
и кто, кого, зачем и как простил… —
Oтвет из области риторики поступит.
Мы всё же появились, вопреки,
с особым стержнем, ощущения надрыва,
и не изменим предначертанной строки,
чтоб всё у них не вышло с перерывом


* * *
A brighter ray of sharp perceptions comes to life—
comes from within, it’s pondering and subtle
such imperfection of the clouds feeds all strife,
subconscious childhood resurfaces to stutter…
The year before Prague witnessed Russian tanks,
apparent spring succumbed to winter’s echo,
our parents braved the cold (so many thanks!).
And we appeared to fill the void of murdered brethren…
First memory brought forth the Babiy Yar
from those ravines I seek the answers even now
my phantom burns from bullet holes don’t get me very far,
the pain excruciating, as I bow…
Our genetic burden overall,
is of the sort one wouldn’t wish as wind on willows,
don’t even notice petty theft at all,
as our thoughts are on the march to Salaspils.
Not much has changed, equator measures still,
yet a brighter ray will always pierce the cloud cover
Who had forgiven, perpetrators, victims will…
Deadlock in rhetoric—there’s nothing to discover.
Yet we appeared—the odds were there to beat,
our core peculiar, on verge of constant tearing
We won’t give up the corner of our street,
Despite attempts of present Goebbels, Hess or Goering

About the Author:

6-25-20_GL in New York_fall 2017 (2) (2) (1)
Gari Lait
Chicago, USA

Gari Light, Born in Kiev, Ukraine in 1967. Lives in the United States since 1980. Graduated from Northwestern University. Became a lawyer some short time after, and worked in the area of international jurisprudence, both in the U.S, and abroad.  Light’s several books of poetry were published in Russian, starting in 1992. His English language poetry book entitled Confluences appeared both in U.S. and in Europe in 2020.  Gari is regularly published in literary magazines and takes part in poetry readings on both sides of the Atlantic.

Gari Lait Гари Лайт
by Aleksandr Kabanov

A book of wartime poems by Alexandr Kabanov, one of Ukraine’s major poets, fighting for the independence of his country by means at his disposal – words and rhymes.

by Mark Budman

Every character in these twenty-two interlinked stories is an immigrant from a place real or imaginary. (Magic realism/immigrant fiction.)

by Andrey Kneller

In this collection, Andrey Kneller has woven together his own poems with his translations of one of the most recognized and celebrated contemporary Russian poets, Vera Pavlova.

by Osip Mandelstam

This collection, compiled, translated, and edited by poet and scholar Ian Probstein, provides Anglophone audiences with a powerful selection of Mandelstam’s most beloved and haunting poems.

by Kristina Gorcheva-Newberry

Four teenagers grow inseparable in the last days of the Soviet Union—but not all of them will live to see the new world arrive in this powerful debut novel, loosely based on Anton Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard.


by Victor Enyutin

A book of poems in Russian by Victor Enyutin (San Francisco, 1983). Victor  Enyutin is a Russian writer, poet, and sociologist who emigrated to the US from the Soviet Union in 1975.

Three Questions. A Documentary by Vita Shtivelman
Play Video
Poetry Reading in Honor of Brodsky’s 81st Birthday
Length: 1:35:40