Impression 1
Coffee aroma,
mild, still warm.
This is my nest, just me here,
my friends are plushies,
a soft, warm cover.
Outside, it’s cold,
but here is like inside a hug –
in a dream.
Impression 2
The sky, the air, the ground beneath my feet,
all different now,
not like back home, where I no longer am.
Here, I don’t have my language all around,
here, I don’t have hryvnias in my hands,
but euros.
The chestnuts are different here.
The despairing love for home
is so quick, so easy to understand,
as soon as you’re gone.
Impression 3
A plane comes out of nowhere,
it flies over me and away, but everything stays calm here.
No sirens from the Right-bank.
The roar is already losing itself in the distance and says to me:
Don’t forget, you’re not over there anymore.
Remember those first days, remember the cellar,
and the whistling roar that tore over the house.
Home will never be the same again.
