Poems of the protest

Transitions №2

Author: Dmitry Strotsev

Translated by Tatiana Bonch-Osmolovskaya



time works for us

united rhythm of the country


inhale exhale

do not speak with a dragon
the language of violence

his language

only a psychiatrist

do not kill him

the long life

on a farm
on a pig farm

where tsmok is at home
like at his home

talk to the people

to the officials
to the military
to the doctors

to people

talk to each other
to find a common language

a new one

with trust and hope
with love

breathe deeply
with united chest

the whole country

inhale exhale


time works for us



Blood in Minsk

epileptic cyclist
burst into
paddy wagon

he was carefully
carried out on the arms
of the internal troops’ soldiers

and transferred to
just arrived
ambulance medics


in memory of Alexander Taraikovsky

not the maidan
without shields and helmets

without fear

live targets
in the shooting range
of AGL



my wife and I
we are not revolutionaries
unaffiliated and unarmed

a dragon settled down in our home
steel plated and carnivorous

he loves the most our children
they are already beaten like a chinese dog
and skinned

we are so damn tired of hiding them
all out of secret corners

what should we do
peace lovers


Women in black


won already

even in




wait belarusian maiden
do not hug a riot policeman

was it the same when

jewish hava
hugging the boot of an ss officer



I do not like this square so much
this masterpiece of Langbard
soaked in slave sweat
of bleating heads
drawn to slaughter
on the altars of the State Planning Commission

do not go to the square
pass by the Langbard
to the red bricked church
of Symon and Alena



by a police baton until uterine rupture
in such a family synodal photo
from Akrestsin prison

humbly covering the black hematomas
into flowing silks of festive vestments

folding quietly broken hands on their knees

from one throat
where a police baton is stuck up to the handle
you proclaim fatherly

to us
to the Body of Christ
to hungry and thirsty for the truth Church

submit to the monster and stop twitching, children
you don’t understand what you are doing

in subtle sleep and quiet prayer
saw dragon eggs, and those are incredibly beautiful

those are brighter than light
those are stronger than meaning
those are clearer than conscience
those are higher than Lord

and those are certainly much more dear to us than pain

the Body of Christ
the crying and inconsolable Church
we answer them

you have lost your voice and appearance
we don’t hear you anymore, don’t see you, don’t know you



how amazing is
yet to bring a girl to the square

this morning the main warrior of the country cried out

let there be genocide of the people
at first the soldiers will open fire over the heads
then they will shoot to kill

to walk hand in hand by the boulevard
as if for the last time
and suddenly on the square to breathe

the keys left to neighbours
the dog has water and a supply of crackers for a day

to walk through the yard
where a careless shadow falls down

to go outside
where a saintly everyday reality wanders around

maybe these two among all
are moving into our madness
aiming for a shot

to jump off
it’s not too late
nausea panic attack
of course you can always turn

eyes and eyes and eyes
chief everything’s lost we will overcome
chief everything’s lost we will overcome

who and when turns
the primal animal fear
into freedom and happiness

who are these twenty people
who so annoyed the dictator
why do they repeat and repeat in the eyes

evacuation of lukashenka from the palace
started right in these minutes

lukashenka leaves the palace
right in these seconds

no, the dragon returns again
with a gun in his claw

chief everything’s lost we will overcome

we are so very tired
we will overcome



go through the sea
a wall stuffy like blood
it parts and parts
his chariots
on the tail
crowd and talk on the shore
they agree
the youth
little prodigal offspring
will suffer and toil
in foreign land
will turn back home
to Egypt



we are
we hold on
dual power in the country
so Belarusian
when they gather
three hundred thousand Belarusians
it is the people’s power
people go
it is the power
of the president of the riot police



the belarusians

for three days have taken off

from their hips
          their breasts
                    their cheeks

fragments of Czech grenades
Polish bullets


that is all
          we can expect
                    from you


Cry my heart cry

without plates
buses drove up to
the university

from the buses
rascals jumped out
without faces

in short
we will not
take off our masks
we will not explain anything to you

and we will not bother with politesse for you
dr smarty

we came for the children

we will
detain and break the students
in the university classrooms
and corridors

this is our chance
bodily sweaty bloody
to join the high

cry my heart cry


               To Irina Kodyukova

in Minsk


in Minsk
a scream

it’s riot police





the rest is not for a phone conversation

I understand
this is war

president Lukashenko turned out
to be a tough nut to crack

are you already writing your dissertation
about the laughter culture
in the Belarusian protest?

no sanctions

the embodiment of
adequacy and legitimacy


By this we win

a victory
is made
of barely distinguishable
homeopathic gestures

how marches of hundred thousands people
gather in Minsk

from drops in the yards
streams on the streets

to the ocean of humans



it is not easy
to wake up a partisan
it is not easy

and putting him back to sleep
is just impossible

just as it is impossible
to push a jinn back
into a bottle

there are no
spell capable



save Belarus

in the face of evil
be among us

lead us
thirsting for righteousness
by Thy hand