Hello, dear readers, still unknown to me.
On the day of the spring equinox, when the balance between light and darkness is perfectly aligned, I’ve decided to start this blog. Symbolic, isn’t it? Balancing between opposites has always felt like a natural state to me—between Russian and English languages, between marketing and literature, between London and the world that lives in my head.
I want to tell you a secret… I’ve long dreamed of writing stories and poems, and now I’ve decided to make my texts public. This blog will become my creative laboratory, a place where I’ll share fragments of prose, poems, and reflections on literature that until now remained locked in desk drawers and digital folders.
Currently, I’m finishing my penultimate year at UCL in the Information Management for Business program. Numbers, strategies, charts… But even in the driest business cases, I find human stories—stories of alienation, ambition, and the illusions of the corporate world. Perhaps this is why I’m so drawn to existential literature—Camus, Kafka, Dostoevsky—authors who could examine the absurdity of human existence under a microscope.
As a first creative step, I recently published the ballad of the white rose. And now I want to share my poem “I Want to Tell You a Secret…” First in its original language.
Хочу сказать вам по секрету,
Как мерзок ваш больной уклад:
Где честь — разменом, на кредиты,
А жизнь — товар, где каждый раб.Вы алчной стаей рвёте землю,
Давясь металлом и огнём,
Топча леса, сминая стебли
Под злобным, грязным башмаком.Как выдирает самозванец
Из недр последний грош добра,
Вы мажете свой жирный палец
В крови убитого зверька.Диктатор — туп и чёрств, без смысла,
Бросает в бой своих рабов,
Чтоб пуля выжгла свет из мыслей,
Чтоб брат на брата шёл без слов.Вы – скотобойня, смерть и битвы,
Лишь ненависть пылает в вас,
А палачи в мундирах сытых
Творят закон кровавых расСвященник гнусному министру,
За взнос прощает все грехи,
А после, мальчики-хористы
Примýт фонтан его любви.Вы в храмах, в банках, в кабинетах
Решили мир себе продать,
Но вас сожрут, всех дармоедов,
Вам будет нечего сжигать.Я вижу мир во тьме пожаров,
Где войны — вечный ваш призыв,
Но волки выйдут из кошмаров,
Чтоб вырвать мерзкий ваш язык.Правда, сказать вам по секрету,
Я класть на вас давно хотел,
Но как изгадила планету
Всего лишь кучка глупых тел.
And, of course, the adaptation in English:
I’ll share a secret, hush and hear,
How sick your rotten ways appear:
Where honor’s sold for scraps of gold,
And life is bartered, souls are told.You tear the earth in greedy packs,
Choke down on metal, flame attacks;
You trample forests, crush each shoot
Beneath your vile, corrupting boot.Upstart tyrants claw for gain,
Draining all the good we strain;
You smear your finger, slick and red
In blood of creatures left for dead.A dictator, dull, devoid of sense,
Hurls slaves to war from his offense;
The bullet scorches reason’s spark,
So brother slays his kin in dark.You are an abattoir of strife,
Where only hatred roars to life;
Satiate hangmen, stuffed with greed,
Enforce foul laws of bloody creed.A priest absolves the foul minister,
Bribes make their sins dissolve, sinister;
Then choirboys, by sweet façade,
Receive his lust in ways most flawed.In temples, banks, and lofty lairs,
You plan to hawk the world unawares;
But soon devoured, worthless breed,
You’ll find no more to burn for greed.I see the world in roaring fires,
Your endless wars, your grim desires;
Yet wolves shall rise from nightmare’s rim
To rip your wretched tongue from limb.One truth, a secret I’ll unfold:
On you, my scorn’s been long since cold;
Yet how you fouled this planet bright—
A pack of fools, mere mortal blight.
In these lines lies my view of “inhuman humanity,” of a world where greed, violence, and hypocrisy coexist with beauty and hope. I explore this duality, this contradiction in my texts, trying to find glimpses of light even in the darkest corners of reality.
In the coming months, I’ll publish my works here—from short poems to fragments of larger texts I’m currently working on. I don’t want to promise regularity—university and part-time jobs take up a significant portion of my time—but I’ll try not to disappear for long.
If you’ve read this far, it means we’re already somewhat acquainted. I’ll be glad if you decide to linger in my literary space.
“The world is absurd, but there is a strange beauty in this absurdity”