Yesterday I completed my final exam of this academic year. The university campus has emptied—students have scattered in all directions, while I remain alone with the silence of the library and my thoughts. In such moments, you feel especially acutely what freedom means and what price we pay to attain it.
Outside, London is wrapped in a soft summer rain. Gordon Square is almost deserted. I sit with a cup of tea by the window, watching the drops on the glass and thinking about what lies ahead. In a few months—a master’s program at Imperial College. A new turn in academic life, new knowledge in strategic marketing that I hope will help me in the future. But I increasingly find myself thinking that office projects and marketing strategies are just a temporary stop on the way to something more in tune with my soul.
In this transitional moment, I want to share a poem I wrote last week. I’ve simply called it “Hymn to Freedom.”
Гимн Свободе
Слышишь, звоны бокалов в таверне?
Так рвётся железо рабских оков!
И каждый из нас своему долгу верен,
Не дрогнет решимость наших бойцов!Вместе мы — сила, мы пламя свободы
Наш путь — это битва, мечи же — ответ.
Короны падут, и рухнут дворцовые своды
Восстанет народ, что ищет свой свет!Я плевал на законы и на королей,
На ложную веру, что душит людей!
Побойся нас, жрец, святая ты тварь!
Падет и твоя голова на алтарь!Не станем мы кланяться трону и злату
Не будем молить ни богов, ни царей!
Мы — буря, что смоет ту рабскую клятву,
Мы — солнце, что светит во мраке теней!Сквозь порох и кровь, сквозь стенания гнева
Мы выйдем, во имя людей Тарверана!
Пусть трусы дрожат, пусть ломаются стены,
Наша свобода сильнее тирана!Я плевал на законы и на королей,
На ложную веру, что душит людей!
Побойся нас, жрец, святая ты тварь!
Падет и твоя голова на алтарь!Так рвётся железо, так рушатся троны,
Так пламя сердец сжигает короны.
Мы — те, кто восстанет средь рабских оков,
Мы — дети свободы, мы — зов её слов!
I was writing the poem in Russian, but the images of the translation immediately appeared in my mind. That’s the power of bilingualism! And freedom…
Hymn to Freedom
Hear the tavern’s echo ring,
So the iron shackles break.
We stand for duty—let it sing,
Our resolve shall never shake!United we stand—flame of the free,
Our path is battle, the sword is key.
Down fall the crowns, the palace will fall,
The people shall rise to freedom’s call!I spit on your laws, I spit on your kings,
On false faith that strangles the hearts of all beings.
Cower in fear, you sanctified beast—
Your head on the altar shall lie, at the least!We kneel not to thrones or the lure of gold,
Nor plead to gods or kings to uphold.
A storm we become, washing slave-oaths away,
A sun that still shines through the shadows of gray.Through powder and blood, in the fury we stand,
For Tarveran’s folk we fight for their land.
Let cowards all tremble, let fortress walls fall—
Our freedom is mightier than tyrants’ thrall!I spit on your laws, I spit on your kings,
On false faith that strangles the hearts of all beings.
Cower in fear, you sanctified beast—
Your head on the altar shall lie, at the least!So iron is shattered, so thrones are undone,
We cast every crown to the flames, one by one.
We are the souls who break free from all chains—
Children of freedom, whose cry yet remains!
The empty corridors of UCL, the sun-drenched library, the coffee shop with a single visitor—there’s something both unsettling and soothing in this desolation.
Third year completed. One more year of bachelor’s studies remains, and then—the master’s program. And then… who knows? A Cambridge career consultant persistently recommended an internship at one of the marketing companies. A reasonable advice, I don’t argue. But something inside resists this rational, safe path.
Sometimes I feel like I’m standing at a crossroads, like the hero in Robert Frost’s poem. A career in marketing is a trodden path with clear milestones. Literature is a road into the fog, without map or compass. But it’s precisely this uncertainty that attracts me the most.
The academic year is over, but instead of relief, I feel anxious anticipation for the future. In a good way, because anxiety and anticipation are two sides of the same coin, whose name is freedom of choice.
Until our next meetings on the pages of this blog.
“Freedom is the luxury of disagreement”