Lyric / Poems by Adolf P. Shvedchikov


Lyric  /   Poems by  Adolf P. Shvedchikov

Dr. Adolf P. Shvedchikov, PhD, LittD

International Poet of Merit

Born May 11, 1937, Shakhty, Russia. Graduate 1960 Moscow State University. Senior scientific worker at the Institute of Chemical Physics, Russian Academy of Sciences, Moscow. Chief of Chemistry, Pulsatron Technology Corporation, Los Angeles, California, USA. Today he is retired pensioner.

He published more than 150 scientific papers, and more than 500 of his poems in different International Magazines of Poetry in Russia, USA, Brazil, India, China, Taiwan, Korea, Japan, UK, Italy, France, Malta, Spain, Albania, Romania, Greece and Australia. His poems have been translated into English, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Greek, French, German, Chinese, Japanese, Albanian, Romanian, and Hindi languages.

He is the Member of World Congress of Poets, International Association of Writers and Artists, and Associazione Letteraria Italo-Australiana Scittori (Melboune, Australia).

Adolf P. Shvedchikov is known also for his translations of English poetry (“150 English Sonnets of XVI-XIX centuries”, Moscow, 1992, “William Shakespeare. Sonnets”, Moscow 1996) as well as translations of many modern poets from Brazil, India, USA, Taiwan, Greece, England, China and Japan.


Dr. Adolf P. Shvedchikov

4317 Petit Avenue, Encino, CA 91436-3516, USA



Again the poplars spreading their bitter scent 2

Enchantress of my childhood 3

Winds of the soul 4

Do you want to know how I love you? 5

Body of woman 6

My nightly thoughts bring whimsical delight 7

I drive the horses of my imagination 8

Pegasus and horse 9

I am eternal child of spring 10

Poor poetry 11

Restless thought 12

The bards 13

Torture of creation 14

The autumn comes 15

The Muse is my eternal life 16

Oh mother-earth, I am yours offspring 17

When rivers merge under the sun 18

Before sunset I feel the poplar’s scent 19

My dreams are floating in the ocean 20

Our life is a mixture of hope and fear 21

I like the winged winds which flow 22

The eloquent eyes 23

My Fantasies are endless, yes! 24

The world will be saved by beauty and art 25

The wind doesn’t blow 26

Remember those golden days 27

Come to my house, be my guest 28

I get drunk from the amorous dew of love 29

Earth, you were for me prison and paradise 30

How carefree are our seventeenth! 31

I would like to stay with you 32

Wait! 33

Destiny 34

If you could only know 35

You are happy, you fall in love 36

All flowers are similar in appearance 37

My darling, I love you too much 38

Night thoughts 39



It is spring again, the ancient round of things…

The nectar of fresh flowers that I bring,

Of newly awakened plants for your delight

On your birthday, my sweetest love, my light!

Once more the fields and groves are greening,

The earth begins to lick old wounds leaning.

Again the poplars spreading their bitter scent,

For the early May morn your laugh is lent.

For us to be together like a reverie,

And air of life is so sweet that it hurts me.

How nice is that each dawning day

I’m more irrevocably smitten with your way.

And if I die once, as die I must,

I’ll go in peace to that dark realm of dust.

I’ll take with me your birthdays to cling,

And unfinished love’s song I still have to sing…







I return to my childhood,

I remember the weeping willows,

Where I hid in a dense wildwood

Dreamed of my beauty’s passion kiss!

I have followed her everywhere,

I kissed fervently her clothes,

I gazed at her inviting golden hair,

But she never allowed me to betroth.

Oh my beloved enchantress,

My touch-me-not queen,

Tell me about your wondrous country,

That nobody still have seen!

But unattainable queen kept silence…

Only many years later I understood

That love and odium are close to violence,

When we don’t know what is evil and good…


The human soul cries out for the help,

Fate takes us up and bears like a gust.

Sometimes it throws us into the flame of hell,

Or gnaws slowly like ruthless rust.

Winds of the soul, they fly around the world

Through desert’s heat, through ocean’s breadth,

Through icy mountain’s penetrating cold,

Through the scent of nightly meadow’s breath.

Occasionally they are like a storm,

They are fierce as wrath and fury hurricane,

Sometimes they get a long-awaited morn

Like roses’ pleasure after summer rain.

They are a whisper of trembling fervent lips,

Ancient amphora with thrilling wine of love,

A lonely bank amid the ocean deeps,

Or early morning contented cooing dove.

Winds of the soul, they are so fast and free,

But our hearts are sensitive with age.

I am still alive, a wise old oak-tree

With flourishing soul placed into an iron cage.



Do you want to know how I love you?

I cannot find that unique proper word,

Such special words are known just God.

There are not a lot of them, only a few,

Which keep the freshness of morning dew,

A lingering hope during the reign of night

When your faith is flickering like candlelight

And when you are ready to say adieu…

I would like to find a chisel to hew

That word of love which is hard like a stone,

And raise this word to a golden throne.

Then I will give an order to endue

This word in gold cloth and then anew

I will ask this amazing word to touch

Of your heart, and you’ll realize how much

And how ardently I love you!


Body of woman, secret of opal!

The poets and artists tried to describe

Your enigma for many centuries,

But you kept safely your secrets.

Oh that alluring outline of woman body,

Mother-of-pearl color of Afrodite’s skin!

An effeminate body of Botticelly,

Voluptuous body of Rubens,

The bodies of Picasso, Rembrandt, Modigliani…

Many artists have painted the body of woman,

And poets have written about woman’s body.

Every generation has tried unsuccessfully

To solve the enigma of woman’s body.

Like Phoenix it looks reborn

Charming again and again every time!


My nightly thoughts bring whimsical delight

When I by stellar shawl do enfold,

Keeping in hands this spacious hectic world

I sit in the shadow of scattered candlelight.

Honestly speaking I don’t like glaring daylight,

And I don’t like glorious landscape.

I am glad to find miraculous escape

When arrives an impenetrable midnight.

I like mysterious, slowly moving moon,

I like an opalescent cold moon beam,

When I am at mercy of sweet dream

Stir the black coffee by a silver spoon.

My gentle Muse believes still in my might,

Sometimes she is teasing me, after a while

We are looking at each other with a smile…

I like this sable magic lonely night!



I drive the horses of my imagination

Across the barren yearning field,

I cover myself with protective shield

And I have faith in my dream’s incarnation.

My path is far away from an iron world.

I am a singer of morning dew,

I am a painter of rainbow’s hew,

I hate emphatically the cruel underworld.

I am a romanticist, and to be correct,

I like the turquoise sky and rising sun.

Among of millions I’m perhaps only one

Who has this unforgivable defect.

But I pace stubbornly throughout the day and night,

I sing continually my spiritual song,

Maybe someone tells that I’m wrong,

In my opinion, I’m nevertheless right!



I am an eternal child of spring.

I fall in love with my tender Muse.

Inside of their womb I completely fuse,

I spread my romantic wings.

I am one of the happiest human being

Singing a spiritual song,

My voice is extraordinary strong,

I feel my might, I’m a powerful King!

I know for sure that I must bring

To everyone the sparkling dew,

When someone find a rainbow hue,

Then we will start to smile and sing!


Poetry, the queen of human emotions,

Where is your former glory?

Today is another love story,

We are slaves of other potions.

Where is an invisible breath, that aura,

Which feeds your soul and your desire,

Where is that forgotten fire

Of a dance’s Muse Terpsichore?

We became the victims of pop-culture,

The poor poetry asks for alms,

Extending her pale trembling arms

Under the threat of a rapacious vulture!


My restless provoking thought,

You are wandering among contrasts,

You are in doubt, you never trust

You suffer when everything comes to naught.

Sometimes you tell to yourself: you ought

To reconsider everything, to revise,

At times you make an unexpected surprise,

Smiling, you comment: it is finely wrought!

And when you causally are suddenly caught,

Be a carefully disguised treacherous trap,

You try insistently to find a gap,

So you will be a winner, my masterful thought!


The bards of sadness, the bards of mirth,

You have sung joyful and sorrowful songs.

Weird bards, you were our bells and gongs,

Sometimes you seem like gods on earth!

Spreading your snowy gleaming wings

You have soared alone in the turquoise light,

Excited people followed your flight,

Your sublime words touched the soul’s strings!

But millions of bards have a terrible fate,

They passed on unknown, one by one,

Never became spoiled by glory’s sun,

And nobody called them renowned or great.

Oh, glorious Heaven, open your gate,

Admit the bards, both poor and rich,

Give them another chance to bewitch

The souls of people, it is not yet too late!

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