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
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
GAINST THE POPLARS SPREADING
THEIR BITTER SCENT
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…
ENCHANTRESS OF MY CHILDHOOD
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…
WINDS OF THE SOUL
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 YOY?
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
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
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
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
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!