Belarusian poet Andrei Khadanovich wrote a new poem titled "New Year on Prison Street," writes "Budzma."
Illustration by Andrus Takindang
For New Year on Prison Street,
children and mom are waiting.
It's unpleasant on the street,
the mood is just the same.
No one skipped school,
everyone brought tens.
But Saint Nicholas
is again missing for Christmas.
Daughter rushed home,
son was worried since morning.
They wrote letters to the Saint,
but still no answer.
So much longing for wonders all around
and dances at the carnival.
Only Nicholas disappeared.
Someone says, he was arrested.
He has no necessary things,
doesn't see his children for the holidays,
no silver patterns on the windows,
only bars.
...They wait. He doesn't arrive.
The Christmas market doesn't entice.
And only someone else's joy
around someone else's Christmas trees
"Do you remember, there was
glass with silver patterns,
and a bearded grandpa came,
a little like dad."
"I recited a poem in Belarusian
with a happy mood,
and mom fried a goose
with potatoes and prunes."
"And I sang carols —
and Nicholas, like daddy,
had a bag with presents,
and snow fell from the sky."
And mom by the Christmas tree:
"Look, daughter! Son,
look! Snowflakes outside the window!
Wait, I hear the doorbell!"
The separation was not in vain
and the meeting will not be futile.
On New Year on Prison Street,
the children and mom laughed.
Homeless Belarusians
felt the apartment was home.
Nicholas smiled into his mustache
about something unknown to them.
Andrei Khadanovich, December 2025
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