#maksym kryvtsov

[dontforgetukraine]

"When someone asks me what war is, I will answer them without hesitation: names. Oh, black sea of ​​sunflowers, receive me. I’m tired of waiting..."

—Maksym Kryvtsov, poet and fallen Ukrainian soldier

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Maksym dedicated one of his last poems to this cat. Cat was killed along with Maksym. He was a special person. Only 33. Warrior of Light.

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My Ginger Tabby

When he falls asleep slowly stretches its front legs he dreams of summer dreams of an unscathed brick house dreams of chickens running around the yard dreams of children who treat him to meat pies my helmet slips out of my hands falls on the mud the cat wakes up squints his eyes looks around carefully: yes, they’re his people: and falls asleep again.

(excerpt translated by Christine Chraibi)

Editor’s note: Maksym Kryvtsov, a Ukrainian poet turned soldier, was recently killed by Russia forces at the front. His voice, preserved in this 2023 interview,  continues to resonate. His poetic sensibilities and humor,  interwoven with his experiences on the front lines, offer a rare, and deeply human glimpse into realities of Russia’s war against Ukraine, and the enduring power of the Revolution of Dignity. 

[whatthehelloh]

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[dontforgetukraine]

My Ginger Tabby

by Maksym Kryvtsov excerpt translated by Christine Chraibi

When he falls asleep slowly stretches its front legs he dreams of summer dreams of an unscathed brick house dreams of chickens running around the yard dreams of children who treat him to meat pies my helmet slips out of my hands falls on the mud the cat wakes up squints his eyes looks around carefully: yes, they’re his people: and falls asleep again.

[dontforgetukraine]

"My head is rolling..." by Maksym Kryvtsov

Translation by Lyudmyla Khersonska

My head is rolling from a treeline to a treeline like a tumbleweed or a ball my ripped arms will grow into violets in spring cats and dogs will drag my legs away my blood will paint the world new Pantone human blood red my bones will sink into the ground to form a skeleton my punctured gun will rust poor little buddy new recruits will receive my things and my fatigues roll on the spring so that I could give rise to violets

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Acclaimed poet killed defending Ukraine

Maksym Kryvtsov embodied the courage and sacrifice of Ukraine's post-independence generation, only to fall while defending his ideals.

Poem of Death

My head rolls from tree to tree like tumbleweed or a ball from my severed arms violets will sprout in the spring my legs will be torn apart by dogs and cats my blood will paint the world a new red a Pantone human blood red my bones will sink into the earth and form a carcass my shattered gun will rust my poor mate my things and fatigues will find new owners How I wish it were spring to finally bloom as a violet.

(translated by Christine Chraibi)

Maksym Kryvtsov’s spirit lives on as an embodiment of Ukraine’s will to survive and thrive against all odds.

[unbolt-me]

WORDS LIVE ON // Maksym Kryvtsov

Down through the ages, Russia has tried to kill the Ukrainian identity. They have done everything to present Ukraine as the rural outskirts of the ‘great, educated and advanced’ Russian empire. But the ones who proclaimed themselves enlighteners were merely butchers, murderers. They did everything they could to erase Ukrainian culture, traditions, and even the Ukrainian language itself. And they…

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[simonesecci]

Maksym Kryvtsov - Wikipedia

Usually I wouldn't post links related to the war but this story of a young man's death, a poet, a published author who received a prize at such young age, dying next to his cat (to whom he dedicated a poem) while some of us, cuddle with our cats in the comfort of our homes, touched me deeply. "

My Ginger Tabby When he falls asleep

slowly stretches its front legs

he dreams of summer

dreams of an unscathed brick house

dreams of chickens

running around the yard

dreams of children

who treat him to meat pies

my helmet slips out of my hands

falls on the mud

the cat wakes up

squints his eyes

looks around carefully:

yes, they’re his people:

and falls asleep again"