The Selected Poems of Oleh Lysheha: Translated by the Author and James Brasfield

by Oleh Lysheha, James Brasfield (Translator)

Overview

Oleh Lysheha is considered the "poets' poet" of contemporary Ukraine. A dissident and iconoclast, he was forbidden to publish in the Soviet Union from 1972 to 1988. Since then, his reputation has steadily grown to legendary proportions. His work is informed by transcendentalism and Zen-like introspection, with meditations on the essence of the human experience and man's place in nature. James Brasfield studied poetry and translation with Joseph Brodsky, Derek Walcott, Daniel Halpern, and other luminaries. He served as an editorial assistant for poetry at The Paris Review, and now teaches English at Pennsylvania State University.

The Collected Poems here include facing-page English and Ukrainian versions of selected poems and a play, "Friend Li Po. Brother Tu Fu." It represents a rare example of translations that are as beautiful as the original poetry and poems that anyone interested in the written word will appreciate.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780916458904
Publisher:	Harvard University Press
Publication date:	12/31/1999
Series:	Harvard Ukrainian Research Institute Publications , #63
Edition description:	New Edition
Pages:	160
Product dimensions:	6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.40(d)

About the Author

Oleh Lysheha is considered the “poets’ poet” of contemporary Ukraine. A dissident and iconoclast, he was forbidden to publish in the Soviet Union from 1972 to 1988. Since then, his reputation has steadily grown.

James Brasfield studied poetry and translation with Joseph Brodsky, Derek Walcott, Daniel Halpern, and other luminaries. He served as an editorial assistant for poetry at the Paris Review, and now teaches English at Pennsylvania State University.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Foreword. George O. Grabowicz

Introduction. James Brasfield

I.

Song 551

Song 352

Song 822

Dog

Father

Horse

Hawk

He

II.

Friend Li Po, Brother Tu Fu

English translation

Ukrainian original

III.

Fox

Carp

Swan

Doll

What People are Saying About This

Psychologically inward, phantasmagoric, Oleh Lysheha's poems are darkly comic fables about the risks, pleasures, and limitations of trying to perceive the Sublime in Nature. What is original in his poems is his ironic understanding of how absurd gestures like sitting on an ant hole are as likely to provoke "visionary hours" as the contemplation of "one of those heavenly days which cannot die." His interest in Nature is decidedly lowercase--nature in its specific operations, and not as a springboard for metaphysics. An alder by a stream may become suggestive of symbolic meaning, but the poet never insists. This modesty of scope shouldn't be mistaken for modesty of ambition: his poems are quirky, uncompromising, full of unexpected dips and veers of sensibility.

Tom Sleigh

Psychologically inward, phantasmagoric, Oleh Lysheha's poems are darkly comic fables about the risks, pleasures, and limitations of trying to perceive the Sublime in Nature. What is original in his poems is his ironic understanding of how absurd gestures like sitting on an ant hole are as likely to provoke "visionary hours" as the contemplation of "one of those heavenly days which cannot die." His interest in Nature is decidedly lowercase--nature in its specific operations, and not as a springboard for metaphysics. An alder by a stream may become suggestive of symbolic meaning, but the poet never insists. This modesty of scope shouldn't be mistaken for modesty of ambition: his poems are quirky, uncompromising, full of unexpected dips and veers of sensibility.
— Tom Sleigh, author of The Dreamhouse

James Carroll

Out of a silence imposed by history and ignorance comes the shattering voice of Oleh Lysheha. Ukraine has its overdue political autonomy, and now, with these poems and play, an equally overdue rendition of Ukrainian life, love, and stalwart hope. Lysheha's "Swan"--"My God, I'm vanishing.."--alone makes the book a treasure. This work offers American readers in particular not just a new voice, but, even in translation, a new language, a new way of seeing. Lysheha speaks through indirection, and observes through the sides of his eyes, but the effect is a set of blows to the heart, which leave one more alive, not less.
— James Carroll, author of An American Requiem: God, My Father, and the War that Came between Us

Askold Melnyczuk

Oleh Lysheha joins a small and unlikely company of poets--which includes Montale, Lawrence, Rilke, and Simic--as a metaphysician of the natural world who finds hidden openings through which the poet passes beyond himself into the outer dark. His travels through the door beyond the still point of our turning world refresh our faith in the mystery.
— Askold Melnyczuk, author of What is Told

Editorial Reviews

Psychologically inward, phantasmagoric, Oleh Lysheha's poems are darkly comic fables about the risks, pleasures, and limitations of trying to perceive the Sublime in Nature. What is original in his poems is his ironic understanding of how absurd gestures like sitting on an ant hole are as likely to provoke "visionary hours" as the contemplation of "one of those heavenly days which cannot die." His interest in Nature is decidedly lowercase—nature in its specific operations, and not as a springboard for metaphysics. An alder by a stream may become suggestive of symbolic meaning, but the poet never insists. This modesty of scope shouldn't be mistaken for modesty of ambition: his poems are quirky, uncompromising, full of unexpected dips and veers of sensibility.

Tom Sleigh

Oleh Lysheha joins a small and unlikely company of poets—which includes Montale, Lawrence, Rilke, and Simic—as a metaphysician of the natural world who finds hidden openings through which the poet passes beyond himself into the outer dark. His travels through the door beyond the still point of our turning world refresh our faith in the mystery.

Askold Melnyczuk

Out of a silence imposed by history and ignorance comes the shattering voice of Oleh Lysheha. Ukraine has its overdue political autonomy, and now, with these poems and play, an equally overdue rendition of Ukrainian life, love, and stalwart hope. Lysheha's "Swan"—"My God, I'm vanishing.."—alone makes the book a treasure. This work offers American readers in particular not just a new voice, but, even in translation, a new language, a new way of seeing. Lysheha speaks through indirection, and observes through the sides of his eyes, but the effect is a set of blows to the heart, which leave one more alive, not less.

James Carroll