Alex Averbuch, "I Forgave Myself," "In the Year 1922," "Where Are You My Hetman," and "Why Spurn Victory, God?" Copper Nickel, forthcoming.
Alex Averbuch, "Trees Are Budding With War," "When You Finally Make It," and "How Do You Return To a Town Which Does Not Exist," The Manhattan Review, Volume 20 #2, Fall 2022 [Pushcart-nominated].
Yulia Fintiktikova, "Welkam to Paradize," The Manhattan Review, Volume 20 #2, Fall 2022.
Ostap Slyvynsky, "Home" and "The Last Letter," The Manhattan Review, Volume 20 #2, Fall 2022.
Alex Averbuch, "How to Survive," M-DASH, Issue 13, Fall 2022.
Lyuba Yakimchuk, “Prayer,” Washington Post Book Club Newsletter, February 2022.
Anastasia Afanasieva, “Untitled,” The London Magazine, April-May 2015.
The Joseph Brodsky Stephen Spender Prize 2014
"Oksana Maksymchuk and Max Rosochinsky's 'Untitled' by Anastasia Afanasieva is such a new translation, of such a new poem, on such a brand new miserable reality not so far away – Eastern Ukraine – that at every round I would think, merely, 'there's nothing much wrong with this for what it is' until there it still was, at the top of the pile, because it's so beautifully phrased, its movements are so authentic in terms of what's seen and felt, and its line-breaks are flawless. It manages without any punctuation whatever (except the colon at the top, which is introductory and perhaps unnecessary) and simply lets voice and silence ebb and flow, go on, get by, down the page and through the bleak day. There's nothing else it can do, it does nothing else, does it superbly."
"Oksana Maksymchuk and Max Rosochinsky's rendition of Anastasia Afanasieva's poignant and creatively bald portrait of the tragedy of civil war in Eastern Ukraine is evoking life's fragility with discreet craft."
"Maksymchuk and Rosochinsky's version of Vladimir Gandelsman's 'Ode to a Dandelion' was marvelously rhythmic and expertly captured the offhand reflectiveness of the original."
"The winning translation of Anastasia Afanasieva's poem about surviving the war in Eastern Ukraine combined a thoughtful and compassionate approach with perfect instinct for phrase, line break and rhythm. This apparently artless poem is constructed from snippets of narrative: the sort of thing you might hear in a news broadcast or on social media about a distant war. But it requires the translator to dig very deep and to filter the words through our own language's consciousness of war and survival in order to shape a poem in English that moves with the precisely awful banalities of war and comes to rest delicately and finally, 'if so, then we must be experiencing / moments after death'."
— Glyn Maxwell
Modern Poetry in Translation