Kostenko was born in a family of teachers. In 1936, she moved from Rzhyshchiv to Kiev, where she finished her secondary education.
Lina graduated with distinction from the Maxim Gorky Literature Institute in Moscow in 1956. Following her graduation she published three collections of poetry in 1957, 1958, and 1961. These books became immensely popular among her Ukrainian readers, however they also forced her into publication silence as she was unwilling to submit to Soviet authorities.
It wasn't until 1977 (16 years later) that her next major collection was published. She followed this with several more collections and a children's book called The Lilac King. In 1979 she followed with one of her greatest works the historical novel in verse, Marusia Churai, about at 17th century Ukrainian folksinger. Her most recent collection is Berestechko, a book length historical poem.
Plus minus a life. A table of human multiplication. A square root of a dream or a dreamer. Two we write and carry over the one. Worn out routine simplistic math.
The soul reaches higher, craves calculus. The soul calculates a two-dimensional sum: the past - the future - living and those slain truth - poetry - nuclear rain. Dragon - Atlantis - telephone - guelder rose faith - virus - billions - zeros... Life deals with infinitesimal heroes, Each and every one of us.
But from a smile, from a handshake, from a lie definitively killed, history - the hardest science - calculates AN INTEGRAL OF STARS
From particles of dust! High mathematics of the years: IN THE SUM OF IMFINITESIMALS THIS GRAND INFINITY APPEARS
'i'
Don't don't don't dot your 'i's and if you have already put the dot rush turn this letter upside down it might become an exclamation mark ! For if you don't no wind will ever put it out this candle with black flame with black flame of the dot I fully imagine this candle in the hands of dead truth
***
We are silent - Poetry and me. We look into each other's eyes. She does not know my name - I have not made it in this era.
I did not sprout, sown into concrete. I did not blossom, vandalized by frosts. I was misplaced - a tuning fork Left in the paws of an unkempt derelict.
***
And silence sings - this is my siren song. No need for wax, I will not block my ears Already lions wait - I enter the spotlight. Life is a stage and yet life is a fight
And always people die for their beliefs. This cruel game invented long ago Has one essential rule - stay human, while Looking the beast in the eye.
And when you drag me into the arena, When you release on me a hungry brute I will just sense this thick stupidity of yours, Your rage of impotence, your fear, your loss.
It's deep inside myself - this sacred insurrection I will be looking into your blood-filled eyes The way an early Christian did. Upon my cross I will dismiss you with my final words:
You are incapable of burning me. Your fire grows cold, it blows out. Your lions lick my feet. Even your loyal slaves make Faces, laughing behind your back - at you.
Зоряний інтеграл VII Плюс мінус життя. Таблиця розмноження. Квадратний корінь із мрій романтика. Два пишем, три помічаєм. Розношена щоденна проста математика.
Душа підіймається до вищої. Душа обчислює суму площ: минуле - майбутнє - живі і знищені - правда - поезія - атомний дощ. Дракон - Атлант - телефон - калина - віра - вірус - мільярди - нулі... Життя оперує безконечно малими. Ми всі поодинці - також малі.
Але з усмішки, з потиску рук, з брехні, убитої наповал, історія - найскладніша з наук - обчислює ЗОРЯНИЙ ІНТЕГРАЛ.
Із найдрібніших зоряних крихт! Вища математика віку: З СУМИ БЕЗКОНЕЧНО МАЛИХ ВИНИКАЄ БЕЗКОНЕЧНО ВЕЛИКЕ.
i
Не ставте не ставте не ставте крапку над і а якщо вже поставили швидше перевертайте його до гори дном може б воно стало знаком оклику ! Бо тоді вже ніякий вітер не задме цю свічку із чорним полум'ям свічку із чорним полум'ям Я цілком уявляю цю свічку в руках у мертвої істини
***
Ми мовчимо - поезія і я. Ми одна одній дивимося у вічі. Вона не знає, як моє ім'я,- мене немає в нашому сторіччі.
Я не зійшла, посіяна в бетон. Не прийнялась, морозами прибита. Я недоцільна - наче камертон у кулаці кошлатого бандита.