Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
Βιογραφικό: Olga Levadnaya is a world-famous Russian poet, Honored Worker of Culture of the Republic of Tatarstan of the Russian Federation (2008), laureate of all-Russian and international literary awards (2007-2022), member of Russian and international literary unions (1997-2022), Ambassador of Peace (2021), artistic head of the Kazan Poetry Theater “Dialogue” (2016).
Author of books: “I live in anticipation of snow” (1992), “Go through the vicious circle” (1998), “In free fall up” (in Russian and Tatar, 2003), “Close to our past” (2003), “Rising on the ladder of thoughts” (2005), “Memories grow from the cry of birds” (in Russian, English, Tatar and Turkish, 2005), “Stargate” (2010), “Wind of the heart” (2014), “Vocal works on verses Olga Levadnaya” (2020), “Selected” in two volumes (2022), “Wind of the Heart” (in Russian and Tatar, India, 2022), “Wind of the Heart” (in Tatar, USA, 2022), «Turkish fairy tales» (in Russian and Turkish, Turkey, 2022).
O. Levadnaya is the creator of the music and poetry festival “Handshake of the Republics” in the Republic of Tatarstan of the Russian Federation (2017-2021).
To survive the bad
and preserve joy…
Night breaks speech
like a slender thread,
I search for a place for the night,
I go into the cold forest.
The transfigured snow
descends from the skies.
Perhaps the blue evening
plaits the twigs into braids?
Perhaps the first hoarfrost
makes its marks?
Perhaps our souls can’t
have a drink in another world?
Perhaps there’s no dry land
for them to land on?
IN THE PARK
The elephants leaned their heads
to the white blossoming blackthorn.
The tracks of poplars are lit
by the moon on the run.
An icy, bottomless evening
hangs over the park…
Here’s another one with a soul,
not met by anyone.
NIGHT GONE OFF INTO THE PAST
The night going off into the past
was grey as the predawn dark.
Shadows of unrepentant trees
fragmented the houses into slight fragments.
The old trees carried off into the unknown
the usual emptiness.
It twinkled, the tiny flame of a mourning cigarette
thrown in the half-dark of the stone city.
In the closed space of shamelessness
hearts that had fed, pulsed.
The world continued to part with the past, setting light
to the innocent windows of sleeping lighthouses.