Since 2022, poets Lyudmyla Khersonska and Borys Khersonsky have found a form of refuge and creative continuity at Civitella. This spring, they were joined by longtime friend and translator Ilya Kaminsky (CRF 2025) — who, as it turns out, first met Lyudmyla decades ago when she was his English teacher in Odessa. The three Ukrainian writers talk about the unexpected reunion of their creative lives in Umbria, the bonds of language and memory, and how translation, humor, and poetry offer connection amid war and displacement.
Civitella Ranieri: How did you three first meet?
Ilya Kaminsky: We all met because of the English language. Lyuda was the teacher. Boris and I were students — at very different times, of course. We all lived in the same city; it was Odessa in the former USSR. Everything was falling apart, the economy was bad but people were having a great time. Borys was a journalist, political dissident, and a doctor all before I was born. I heard him read his poetry once, at a museum when I was a teenager. And Lyudmyla was my English teacher, teaching me the English alphabet before I came to the States. And now, at Civitella, we walk around and talk about the ghosts of the great poets who lived here before, sometimes in English.
Borys Khersonsky: When I first met Ilya, he was a teenager. He told me he listened to my poetry reading in the Literature Museum. I met him again many years later at the International Literature Festival in Odessa. Later we met each other regularly in different parts of the world but never before staying together in Civitella had we had a chance to sit down and talk about poetry, life, and childhood memories.
Lyudmyla Khersonska: I first met Ilya when I was his English teacher. He was a young boy then. I liked him very much. He had beautiful curly hair and a charming smile — a disarming smile, as we would say in Odessa, an important feature in the time of war. Later we met at a Literature Festival in Odessa when I first heard him reading his poetry in English. I liked it very much and I couldn’t believe it was that young boy who was picking up his second language many years ago. Then we met at different poetry venues in different countries and we communicated as good friends. When Russia’s war against Ukraine began, Ilya was very worried about us; he was looking for different opportunities, talking to different people to help us escape. We were in touch very often and he always had great concern for our fate. I am very much thankful to him.
CRF: What does your relationship look like now?
IK: These days I get to translate Borys’ and Lyudmila’s poems into English — which is a joyful thing for me. With the poet Katie Farris we have put together a collection by Boris and Lyudmyla called “A Country Where Everyone’s Name is Fear” (Lost Horse Press). It so happened that the book came out just a few days before the full scale invasion of Ukraine by Russia.
LK: We stay in touch all the time. Ilya is a very positive and inspiring person. It is always good to talk to him. We laugh a lot. He has this Odessa type sense of humor. We talk about poetry and translations, we read poems to each other, we exchange memories about the absurdity of the Soviet past.
BK: Our relationship has become very close. We share very similar tastes in poetry, we can recite the same poems by heart and we share the same mother-tongue. In spite of the age difference, we appeared to have a very similar experience living in Odessa, a very special city when it comes to literature and trade. We never talk about trade, though. We live far from each other and therefore cannot talk as much as we would like to, we both are very busy teaching students and we both work intensively on our upcoming books. Communication among creative people is always inspiring and this is the case with us. We are very grateful to Civitella within whose walls we have had a wonderful chance to communicate with one another.
CRF: How is it being at Civitella all together? In Umbria, in 2025…
BK: It is an opportunity for us to support one another in this time of war. We talk about possibilities and losses, grieve together and celebrate some small victories. Ilya knows we have found our shelter here and he knows it is not only about safety. The main thing we found in Civitella is close, friendly relationships which we value so much.
IK: I am so grateful to Civitella for this time together. To be able to talk about poetry and poets, about language and mystery of being, about misfortunes of politics and fortunes of music and sport is such a gift. I thank Civitella, most of all, for opening its doors to them now, in this time when Odessa is bombed on a regular basis. So many other arts organizations were extremely open and encouraging of Ukrainians when full scale invasion began in 2022, but like most in the West, the literary arts’ world attention span is relatively short, and now focus is elsewhere. But the needs of artists who are in danger because of this horrific war are real. And it is incredible that Civitella continues to recognize it and support poets from war zones. And what brilliant poets they are!
LK: Being at Civitella all together is a wonderful gift. We talk the same language, and remember the same stories and poems and we share similar memories. We also like to walk together and admire the sunsets. There are beautiful sunsets here.
CRF: Are you currently working together in any capacity?
IK: Yes, we continue to collaborate on translations and these days I live in NJ, so it is a blessing to be able to meet face to face here in Civitella — thank you.
BK: We had collaborated together before the war began. I translated a collection of Ilya’s poems from the book “Dancing in Odessa” and had them published in Ukraine. Ilya together with Katie Farris edited my and Lyuda’s book of poetry. The translation work continues and it is a kind of mutual inspiration.
LK: Yes, we are working together on my book of poetry.
CRF: What are you currently reading, watching, or listening to?
IK: It’s been a wonderful opportunity to listen to owls at Civitella. And to fields. And to stones, which have stories both rich and terrifying and, at times, shy. The music of conversation with other writers and artists and musicians here has also been a blessing. As for reading other poets—this is just natural to read Italians here, from Pavese and Cavalli and Penna and Sinisgalli and Montale and Saba and Pascoli and Pozzi and Merini and Ungaretti and other marvels of 20th century to earlier marvels from Petrarch to Dante to Bocaccio, and so on. Though at Civitella, even cats — especially cats — are poets. And then, of course, there is the spoken art of kindness and generosity of everyone who works here, this is the art people here — it’s a privilege to learn from them.
BK: We watch a lot of Italian classic neorealistic movies. I read and translate Mark Strand and Adam Zagajewski. We are very lucky to have access to Civitella Library which has a really wonderful collection including Strand’s private library. As for the music, I listen to it every day. It has been a habit of mine since childhood. I love classic music and jazz. Being here in Civitella I became more open to contemporary music.
LK: I am reading Wislawa Szymborska and other Polish poets. I read news about my country. Both me and Borys live in the double space luckily shaped by Civitella and its peace and beauty on one side, but on the other side we constantly live in the current war and Russian attacks. I love Italian movies and great Italian film directors. We listen to music, including a lot of spiritual music. We love Italian art very much. We enjoy Italian medieval and Renaissance architecture and paintings.
After this interview, revisit newly awarded Pulitzer Prize winner Marie Howe’s (CRF 2022) conversation with Borys and Lyudmyla on “For the Record: Conversations with Ukrainian Writers During War,” recorded while all three writers were in residence at Civitella.