City a constellation.

How often, lost, did we walk
toward the light of the buildings, of which
there was left not a stone! . . .
And who will believe that it was the light we followed?

How often did we go looking
for the mouth of the river,
a bridge, and a peer
in the northern deserts of yards,
but who will believe that there had been a river?

It is only through us that the cities
transgress into oblivion.
We pronounce them
and find them different. However,
next morning you come to the square and recognize it:

Lindens at the end of blooming stand golden,
noiseless.

Translated from the Ukrainian by Nina Shevchuk-Murray
Джерело: http://www.bu.edu/agni/poetry/online/2006/shevchuk-circle.html