Someone's loneliness is branded
But the skin is clear.
No piercing, no tattoos,
But the past is a legend -
So much jazz and rock'n'roll,
So many fairweather friends.
So many reasons to be bought, sold,
Hired, nullified,
Then be back
Into the emphemeral
Sadness of my room,
Like a celestial bride
Devoted to Saraswati
And long books about science.
Hey you the First world!
We woundn't have had this state of war now
If we had top notch Math and Physics books
From day one,
If our ladies were safe in the streets,
If our restless minds would be labeled eerie,
But not insane.
A cry in the desert,
People pushing further away from the truth,
Twisted in their chairs,
Such a long history of oppression.
We Ukrainians are wild
But our bestiality is calculated.
We need to own our past again,
Taking back the names of the greatest composers
And archtects
And saving them.
My emotions are a small and tight rope,
I may be hoping against the hope
But in several years I see
All the disruptions forgotten, gaps closed.
This is the miracle
Of a real partnership.
We own all this pain
And all these words.
* About the crisis of technical/social inequality in Ukraine and its difference from real meritocracy based on talent and ambition