Mind Over Matter. 72 assorted poems in English by a Russian

Mind Over Matter

72 assorted poems in English by a Russian

Leonid Sboyko

© Leonid Sboyko, 2017

ISBN 978-5-4483-5210-2

Created with intellectual publishing system Ridero

On Time and Timeproof Matters

Of all time measure unitsDay is one true:The rest are merely conventionsTo human counting due.The morning, noon, then evening, night,Then dawn again – that’s always right:There’s never other cycle —A change unchangeable like a …Like what, indeed? Like what?2003Future’s horizonWe never reachStuck in the PresentAnd our memoriesFuture’s the cradleOf our dreamsWe’re freer thereThan we can beBy Past, in the Present, for Future we live:What due to, what in and what for;Past is the one whichWe so quickly enrich,Present’s a fiction,Future, we miss and put off1997Believe the Time Inside about its speedFor it’s the other one that cheats:The one we check by glancing at a clock,The one whose pace we take in as a shock.2004The river flows,The sunset glows,The wind, forsaken, freely blows,My timer quicker and quicker slowsAnd soon comes to a stand;The heat still beats,My pulse still reads,I peacefully wonder where it leads2002A rainy, rainy, rainy dayA good old chess game left to play…I wish the day would stayAnd I would playLifetimes away…2002Time wears notBut it makes one wearSome find it cruelSome find it fair2002

Citified and City-free

Civilization of sleepwalkers,Civilization of small talkers —That’s who we are,That’s today’s broad karma!That’s where we would end up webbedBut few first years having keptAt curb, in sweet deceit,In which I would have rather leaptOnce and for all, again,To never wake up to the realmOf those who sleep when walking,Of those nothingtalking.2003Everybody knows what it’s all about,Nobody knows what for:Hi-smi-ling and signingAnd politely diningThen feeling incredibly bored…Nobody relatesTo my diving todayIn a cold mountain lake.2000Too many people close aboutMake a crowd.Moscow’s endowed with it, no doubt:We abound,We are all aroundWhom have we found?No one to be the One,No sooth to be the Truth,No win worth having won,No fighting nail and tooth.Too many people, not too many friends —A common big places’ notable trend,To lonely homes the way to wend,Away from small places, from which we were rent.Too many things that are currently on —The shows – why not – might indeed go onSo all our talks are of shows we’ve seenAnd just city places, to which we have been.You write to your province friends of this waterspoutBut there’s nothing you feel worth writing about —To them, that all is city talk,Which we ill-strenuously balk.Too many people close aboutNo place to stay outYou are aloneBut not quite your ownYou are quite singleBut you have to mingle…Time gets by —Hard to ask it why —And you are just a sliceOf one big apple-pie.Too many people for so few placesHomes to mad and futile racesFor better and better stuff and gadgets to haveBut everyone needs somebody to love.Too many people close aboutMake a crowdBut no-one’s as close to theeAs you would want him to be.We abound,We are all around —Whom have we found?2005Lots of people, little space:One hot dirty endless race,One for pleasure, leisure, place,One immeasurable craze.Lots of people, little space:All big cities are a race…One must really be smallTo fit in it with us all2007ComPunicationWe are some of the first of thoseWho have had their first nice doseOf computerized communication:A dose of comPunication.        Why meet        If you can have your seat        In your place        While I can in mine        And still communicate?There’s the web, the phone, the personal page,The social network, there’s all the rageSo let’s comPuniCage!        It’s neat        For you can have your seat        In your nameless city        And I can in mine        Grab the keyboard, hit it!Sorry, my e-friend, I didn’t knowThat you by this time have grown so oldI haven’t logged out for twenty-five yearsI’ve always been near, e-near.        But then again…        Why meet        If you can get old in your place        And I can in mine        And still get old, get old, get oldNon-e-old…Undo! Undo! Undo the changes!2008If in a place of manyYou don’t have a pennyThe many around you won’t probably help:Life ain’t so sunnyWhere everyone’s runningFor nothing but money.It cannot be helped.2007Deep, very deep in the taiga forestWhere the beautiful fir-tree growsA squat plain log-built loner’s cottageStands in the thick of the grove.The ski-path meandering endlessly throughThe realm of the evergreen muffled with snowBrings me to the hut not really soon —I’ve come here to spend time alone.Cold and tired but happy and hopefulI stoke up the oven and unpack the victuals.The sky is starry, the flame is joyful,Life seems so suddenly simple.2001Don’t talk to meThe way the talk should be,Talk to me free,Don’t sing to me,For all I want from theeIs just sincerity.So don’t talk to meLike they talk on TV,Don’t quarrel with meLike they do in the movies,But do it sincerely,Do it upfront,Do it so thoroughlyI am right away stunned;Don’t do it right,But do it your way,Do it at nightAnd during the day.Don’t talk to meThe way the talk should be,Talk to me free.2002Hometown-boundA long steel railThat we all have seenWith its maddening steadinessAnd its lamp-side sheenCarries on carrying usTo the places we’ve beenHelping to go backTo the pasts long gone…Some nice, some lived irreversibly wrong.People who live thereLive on in our pastWhich seems to be boundTo always last.2012The subject can be narrow or broad:It ranges from ‘lapel’ to ‘Lord’,It may be quite a panoramaBut here’s today’s communication drama:It’s never deep however broad:We listen but we soon get bored.Recurring to computers, TV, books,Indulging in embellishing our looks,We shallower soon become,To coreless, flashy life succumbed.2004

Russia-Bound

When Russia was said to have been soldI wasn’t sold on that:The heart of this country is inert to gold,The song is infinitely sad.1999One hundred yards they sleep underneathThe stormy chest of the Barents SeaIn an iron, iron black submarineDay after day into eternity…Penned captain-lieutenant, ‘We’re twenty-three’……‘we’ll be twenty-three and here we’ll be’…2000I will see a whole worldBut everywhere I goI will see the sky aboveNow high and now lowI will breathe the airEverywhere I goI will be myselfWhatever I may know.1995That’s RussiaYou will never translate it into your own languageSo let me talk to you in your own tongue.I’ve been living here for many a yearCouldn’t help looking here at many a thingSeen many a foreigner in and to this countryForeigners by passport and foreigners convincedStrangers changing attitudes by secondsStrangers largely to themselvesMany a madman have I seen tooMany who died to know what to doMany a bright head locked in a madhouseMany a sage man, many obtuseMany a small man saying Russia is greatMany in love with it, many in hateMany who added they can’t understand itMany explaining: ‘Russia’s just vast’Some say that Russia has always been stillOthers remark it has always been ill;Many believe it’s a land of confusionMany assert it is all an illusionHistorians say that Russia is oldWeather men say that Russia is coldEast and West say that Russians are hot

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