Nyaklyaeu Published a Topical Poem. It Mentions Kolesnikova and Babaryka, Tsikhanouskaya, and Prakopyeu with Paznyak
«How to overthrow this Sveta? — Thinks Prakop.»
«Warsaw. Straltsouski Poetry Festival "Verses on Asphalt". A conversation about literature. But journalists' questions (as everywhere and always) were about politics. And among the first:
— Why don't you comment on the situation in the political environment of the emigration?
— Because I don't want to.
— Why?
— Because I don't engage in politics. I engage in literature. I believe I can do more in it than in politics.
— In that case, you could comment on politics as a poet.
Finally, I couldn't resist. And on the second day of the festival, which coincided with Valentine's Day, I commented," — poet Uladzimir Nyaklyaeu wrote on Facebook and published a poem.
On Saint Valentine's Day
Love has a name day!
A holiday for international masses.
But
what's the picture for us?
Who and how celebrates among us?
Whoever wants, dances so
The free dance of a fighter…
Our
Masha weeps among the Germans —
She lacks good fortune.
To comfort Masha, the Germans
Buy Russian gas.
The Germans
are foreigners after all,
Though they've been among us more than
once.
And at the other end of the world,
Wrinkling Socrates' brow,
«How
to overthrow this Sveta? —
Thinks Prakop. —
Which of the shrewd Belarusians
Is ready to assist in that?
Is
it beardless Pavel Usau,
Or shaven Kravtsou?»
And in a nearby country
Under the quiet church bell
Longing
for the Blue-Eyed
Zianon cannot fall asleep.
He fears that he will dream of
Trump with impeachment, but
A
titmouse flies into his dreams
With Masha's flute on its wing.
And towards morning Franak, Sveta
Are dreamt of... Up to three
times!..
And also from the corps de ballet
A whole host of
trifles!
Pushing forward with moans about the people
Into politics, the
ballet!..
But standing at the crossroads
Is the transitional
cabinet.
There, at the very top
Under the regime, cutting the branch
Sat
the former Minister of Culture…
He is no friend to Zianon.
Not a comrade to Babaryka:
He doesn't know whose Crimea is?
With
him, you won't even brew coffee —
Nor will you overthrow the
regime with him.
But in a world of shouts,
Where roars and squeals duet,
How
can Babaryka figure out
Whose Crimea is? And whose Minsk is?
Isn't it better amidst the clamor
Not to remain silent at this
time?
Well, especially since in Minsk's GUM
Nothing at all is
heard.
Even if you shout, roar into the ear:
«Listen to what I tell
you!..» —
Only the wind rolls dully
A blizzard across
the border.
But even through centuries,
Before Christ and after Christ,
Our
dreams of freedom
Will not be swept away by the cold.
Their sources will not freeze,
As long as they shine over the
earth
Our white clouds,
Swollen with blood.
No one will make a wasteland
Of our entire land,
As long as
there is a Belarusian people
With God's faith in it!
And his path will not be obscured by
Envy, pride, greed, malice…
He is crowned and unconquered,
He is both Svetas and Zianons,
He
is all of us!..
If we exist.
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