Today, Russian troops invaded Ukraine. There have been reports of explosions in Kharkiv, the largest city in the northeast. Kharkiv is the home of Irina Yevsa, the author of this 2017 poem.
As a veteran and advocate for peace, my heart goes out to the people of Ukraine and to the soldiers on both sides who will suffer and even die in this war.
Who runs the slaughterhouse? (We know the answer, of course.)
* * *
What do sheep talk about,
mindless amid the rabble,
as they head to the
slaughter?
To the left and right of
them,
a detail of stern sheepdogs
keeps order in the ranks.
On the front line, the rams
bleat triumphantly, “Glory
to those who provide food!”
A mad chorus of voices
responds, “Slice up the traitors!
Enemies—into the pot!”
Above, the vault of heaven.
Behind, the landscape of
home.
Ahead, the slaughterhouse
gates.
The bravest march straight
in,
while others get a horn
in the flank. As everyone
is knocked about, some shout,
“Man the battering ram!”
But the last of them soils
the grass and strains his
throat
as he lets out an awful
shriek, “I’m a veteran!”
Translated by Jamie Olson
