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Stefaniia Trokhanovska
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Stefaniia Trokhanovska STEFANIIA TROKHANOVSKA / Stefania Trochanowska, born in 1951, lives in the Lemko village of Bielanka. She is married to the composer and former musical director of the Lemkovyna Song and Dance Ensemble Iaroslav Trokhanovskii / Jarosław Trochanowski. While raising a family and assisting with the ensemble, Trokhanovska wrote poems “for herself.” In 1984, she published a bilingual Rusyn/Polish collection of poetry, Later, Now, Before (Potem, teraz, przedtem), which was followed by two Polish-language collections , Don’t Let the Flowers Wither (Nie pozwól uschnąć kwiatom, 1991) and Butterflies (Motyle, 1994), and a Lemko-Rusyn collection Willow (Verbyna, 1993). Her poems frequently deal with the emotions surrounding Operation Vistula. 164 POLAND [From Verbyna, reprinted in Tsy to lem tuha, tsy nadiia] wolves howl over the mountains they fared better they stayed there were people there were mountains there were forests there was space people left the mountains cried the forests were lost the space remained Doomsday we were going on that doomsday into the unknown with part of our belongings with heart ripped in half for a moment a few weeks [3.80.131.164] Project MUSE (2024-03-28 13:58 GMT) STEFANIIA TROKHANOVSKA 165 months but when the heart healed a little we stayed forever fools Only scattered people from east to west for no reason the heart remained in the mountains the soul went to the museum only the chuha remained as the evidence of guilt Wandering they were going to America for bread to the east 166 POLAND for sausage to the west because they had to they did not appreciate the holy land meanwhile it vanished The Carpathians it was a second paradise on earth the Carpathians except there was no sin and they were not saints who expelled the people Conscience they were returning to the mountains on foot because in their chest was a heart not a stone with nothing a single bundle hope and holy icons [3.80.131.164] Project MUSE (2024-03-28 13:58 GMT) STEFANIIA TROKHANOVSKA 167 Vatra93 we’ll come again to a warm house there are no windows no chimney no place to hang the holy images the sweet scent of chatyna94 wide open doors wait no room to sit it doesn’t matter it’s not our fault Old clock An old clock stopped ticking when it did not fit on the cart it escaped barbed wire it was not compelled to suffer it remained at home to yearn 93 Bonfire. 94 Branches of evergreen trees. 168 POLAND Lost they took a thousand years’ worth of goods and chattels on half a cart transferred them to a freight-car together with the cattle they planned to come back their forefathers’ land awaits them just to remember is not enough Yearning the mountains followed the people west what were they to do so accustomed to each other they couldn’t live without them ...