Translated by Tatiana Rudyak
Beehive
.no not a beehive it’s a prison
we know by the barking of german shepherds about a convoy of new prisoners
.they drive them already through underground mazes through prison tunnels
.march shoes without laces pants without belts
.march arms behind their backs
.the doors clang now in the cell’s womb
rush in from eight am to eight pm group by group
belongings in front of them from night to dawn i said
everybody moves to the right from monday to tuesday face the wall i said
.a cell is an ear tuned to suffering by the german shepherd
.the body of the transport is а sacred procession
.no not the walls a church
not gilded onion domes not bells-iconostases but people
.not fences а prison
the body of a prisoners’ transport a sacred procession
.not the corridors and bunks shit cans matrasses
people
.the body
spread around cells thrown around cabins
in heaps in inextinguishable light unfading
.with elbows bruised knees sticking out
with wrists bleeding
.screaming with flagellated backs
.the body of Christ
Lord Your people
.no not a prison it’s a hive
whenever we’d meet in Uruchye or Shabany
as though embraced Lebyazhye
if we’d find an occasion Sukharevo & Almaty to share clothes
.hear we came out for a regional march we had a hearty walk wanted to hang out near a supermarket in files
.the body of Christ
.released a film drank celebrating it in a dive
came out to a roadside with a flag waved it to the automobiles
.the body of Christ
.as for me i went to buy matches in the morning those were guarding by the entrance
.folks i work in IT a citizen of Kazakhstan I left our office couldn’t get to the metro
.the body of Christ
.and we got out through the window outsmarting the guards crossed the tram tracks and joined our fellows from the university
.then more or less the same scenario
.oh Lord Your people
.time you are not here
rations are distributed .there’s no time
.a walk time
isn’t here
a shower there’s none
time
bedtime
none
time is cut off with a cling
of a public door
like a guillotine
.oh Lord Your people
.women sang in a prison cell
reckless reckless Belarusians
Mighty God in a prison cell
hear o heart
.no not a prison a church
.a voice from the womb
of leviathan
.daughters reckless mothers
between the Okrestin prison
.face the wall i said belongings upfront
and the Zhodino prison
we stood shoulder to shoulder
.sisters reckless Belarusians
.the body of prisoner’s transport is a sacred procession
.no not a womb it’s a prison
.i was in my mother’s womb
.and i was in prison
in satan’s cell
.in a concrete cube in an acid flask
edges and bars angles and pipes
.grace you are not here
ration is distributed grace is not
.a walk no grace
a shower no grace
.no
grace is cut off with a cling
of the public door
as if by a guillotine
when they sang in a prison cell
Mighty God i wasn’t in a cell
i was free in Your embrace
.an echo–cell contained in a miracle
by a german shepherd
.no not a prison a mother bee
.then like children
Long live Belarus
we pound on the walls drum on the heating pipes
Long live Belarus
.church is the body of Christ
.wasps fly in they take away our mattresses
they lock us in dungeons
.bees swarm thicker and thicker
Belarusians sing purer and purer
Almighty God Your people
a concrete skeleton of the leviathan shaken
no not a prison a church
no not a prison a mother bee
no not a prison a hive
the body of Christ
Oh Lord Your people
November 13, 2020–April 4, 2021