Original
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Замучений мій розум до нестямиБуденними питаннями життя.Чомусь так важко вивести ті плями,Що проставив ще до каяття.
Бажання жити, усміхатись і радіти,Зникають враз у той момент,Коли не знаєш, як й куди подітиДуші набутий негативний елемент.
Постійні роздуми над помилками,Не призведуть до ідеального буття.Доля вишита нечистими нитками:„Не стань хоч ти її дитям”.
Translation
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My reason's tortured to distractionby the everyday questions of life.Somehow it's so hard to remove those stainsI left before repentance.
The wish to live, to smile and to be gladvanishes all at once, the momentyou don't know how or where to putthe negative the soul has taken on.
The constant brooding over mistakeswill not lead to an ideal existence.Fate is embroidered with unclean threads:"At least you — don't become its child."
About the poem
A mind “tormented to distraction” by everyday questions, stains left “before repentance” that will not come out, the wish to live vanishing the moment one does not know where to put “the soul’s acquired negative element.” Fate is “embroidered with unclean threads” — the image of the rushnyk, the embroidered towel — and it warns: “at least you, don’t become her child.” Then the turn, and the reason the collection exists: on the eve of grief, “the soul is gladdened by those still unsuccessful lines, written on white paper.” The poem catches consciousness at the point where reflection becomes paralysis. Questions multiply faster than answers, repentance cannot clean the past, and even the desire to live loses direction. Its force comes from refusing resolution: confusion itself is treated as an honest state of being.