sips of rainwater
Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
Lina Kostenko is one of those poets who emerge in order to change the world. To do this, these people are given the most important thing, a strong knight; in other words, a guardian angel that protects the most vulnerable soul with his wings. A poet’s soul is special. Those who are capable of surpassing the limits of black and white truths and stealing words, like Prometheus, who stole fire from Olympus, have special souls that are in permanent communication with the world, even though this world often turns a deaf ear to their words.
In one of his short stories Julio Cortazar writes about an obscure Latin American, who visits Paris to watch a guillotine execution. This image conceals the author whose prose is the world of Argentinian music, tangos, rhythms, and magic. This is the trace of a great master. Milan Kundera says that in Kafka’s novels the city (Prague) has no memory, and here and there one finds solitary heroes (Jozef K.) who don’t seem to know anything about their own lives. Kafka is a master of the psychology of lost memory and the philosophy of discovering that space where it has been hidden from the eyes of the average individual. It is precisely the philosophy of the quest as an experience of existence, which will remain in the history of world culture and be associated with the name of Franz Kafka.
…At first glance, Kostenko’s path appears uncomplicated, but only to those who have no desire to perceive the imperceptible, to see the invisible. Concealed behind her aphoristic constants is a fearful animal that is observing all of us but does not approach each one of us. This animal is dying in its cage. In Kostenko’s poetry there are traces that direct us into a world of ethical harmony and aesthetic delight. This is not a cold glass tower, nor is it a struggle between light and darkness. It is contemplation, a fading away. This is the only way one can spot two wary eyes peering through the thickets of the subconscious. I will not tell you who is hiding there. Each person can identify this timid being.
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