29.09.2023. Англия.
Стихосложение в Англии
Стихи - потоки и куплеты, -
От Бога Щедрою рукой
Слетают с неба, и От Солнца,
От Месяца, Ночной Порой.
Я не поэт, я не училась.
Я восхищения полна,
Я удивляюсь бесконечно:
- Что? Написала это я??
И ничего мне не поделась,
Как музыка, стихи, ветра,
Когда записанные строки,
Я рассылала:
- Нате! На!
- Смотрите? Что я написала?
Откуда же всё то пришло?
Будь в Древней Греции
Сократом?
Ко мне бы Царь их
Подошёл?
- О, Мой Сократ! Гомер!
Однако!
Не Пифией ли Вы
Рождён?
Вдруг Бог с Небес
В уста на землю,
И в строки в тысячи ручьёв,
На белых листьях
В закорючках:
А кто-то причитать же смог!
Но в Англии стихи слагаю.
На русском, потому ещё
Я на английский,
Как умею:
Понять смогли чтоб
Кое-что.
Сама ж английского не знаю!
Что им пишу, - мне не понять.
И почему они сердиты??
Опять послала не туда!?
Потом толпой ко мне приходят.
Читают громко:
- "Не права!"
Ругают западло:
- "Не смейте
Рисунки,и стихи нам слать!"
Но как же так??
Когда студенткой
Сидела я, уча своё:
Преподаватель на коленках
Сидел с соседкою одной.
Она моложе: и ей двадцать!
Тут родилась она! не я!
Когда она свои таланты,
Казала им:
Те все хваля!
- Ты молодец!
- Талант и гений!
- Нарисовала!
- Так никто!
Её улыбались, скаля зубы
Улыбкою кривя своё рот.
- А я? Я чем плоха? Такая ж?
Студентка тоже!
Тоже: я, -
Когда я что нарисовала:
Я Королеве отдала.
Я отдала мои рисунки.
Я отослала и стихи.
Как мне в письме из Букингема
Их попросили:
- Покажи?
А вот чиновники не любят!
Соседям тоже, не всегда.
И даже -всхлип!, - родные детки
Ругают:
-Не пиши ты нам.
Потом полиция примчится.
Одни, иль с кучею ещё.
- Донос пришёл. Стихи послали.
- Донос. Рисунок Ваш пришёл.
Но Королевы показала:
Она просила там, стихи,
На русском чтоб
Я Ей прислала.
Там чем они не хороши?
И сразу все, кто написали
Доносов пачку на меня:
Они же тоже
Что-то пишут?
И что-то там своё
Творя?
А раз пришли: меня пугали.
- Донос от дочери на Вас!
- Волнуется: вдруг суинцидны?
- И кое кто ещё сверх там.
- Буковского ведь там пытали?
А с СССР Вы, как и он?
А значит, мы имеем право
Пытать Вас в Англии, гнобя?
- Мы отвезём сейчас в психушку!
А я и эта - медсетра.
А это: это Полицейский.
А нас к Вам - Дочка позвала.
Я долго долго не видала
Дочурки милые лицо.
Ко мне она не приезжала.
Хотя просила много раз.
Как только говорю про это.
Как в Англию детей ввезя,
Тут потеряла. Не приходят.
И, живы ли? Хочу узнать.
И сразу вся система власти,
Всей этой мощною волной,
Третирует: тут рабство,
Права Коровки "заткнут рот".
И нету права,
Вот, - Буковским,
Угрозы загнобить, пытать.
А я спросила:
- Документик
Мне свой
Не сможете ль мне показать?
И оказалося:
- О, Чудо!
Что документиков то нет.
Что даже люди не слышали,
Названья того "ДБС".
- Хотите, покажу? Чтоб знали?
И показала ДБС.
Вот, - год такой, ещё, ещё тут.
Там "чисто" всё.
- А где же Ваш?
А их никто не проверяли.
Лишь Полицейский с "ДБС".
Но как же?
Право на работу?
И без лицензии ещё?
А страшное.
Они стучаться. И лгут , одно, другое там.
- Полиция! Откройте двери!
Открыть:
- Без "ДБС" стоят.
И тут же схема, кто такие,
Меняют прямо на ходу.
Уже - донос, и увезти Вас!
Опять же кто? "Без ДБС!"
Порой одни и те же лица.
Потом как "Менеджеры мы"
"Мы от Агенства , мы с проверкой!"
"Откройте дверь! Закрыта дверь!"
А! Помню.
Менеджер с проверкой:
Как я снимаю, где живу.
Он не окно пошёл проверить:
К белью: бюсгальтеру:
- То что?
Пардон,
Бюсгальтер мой иль лифчик,
То не Ландрофа моего,
Был сдан с квартирою на ренте,
Тут жить - а мне носить его?
Имущество МОЁ
И лично.
А в Англии,-
- Вот стыд какой!
А нет тут личного: тюрьма как.
Ты платишь ренту,
А им, - в лом!
- "Зайду я в дом: ключи имею.
Я Менежер! Мои права!
И обыски,
Уйти куда то-то.
И обыски:
С тобой порой.
Какое это омерзенье.
Как омерзительно душе.
Когда со мною по английски,
А тон,
Со псом не горят.
Мне, в дом зайти и жить,
Не просто.
Мне надо деньги заплатить.
ОНи ключей полно имеют,
Ты выйдешь?
А они зайдут.
И не платя: любые двери.
И не платя: мы власть! закон!
А Англия?
Про частны тюрьмы
Слыхал?
Законов нет, дружок.
Звереешь. Тихо ты звереешь.
Ты устаёшь.
И как устал,
Когда опять все эти звери,
Что по английски говорят.
И слов они не понимают.
Законы защищают нас.
Они плюют на все законы!
И захватили эту власть.
И как мучительно-убого,
Им трудно в чём то тут помочь.
И в СССР все виноваты,
Отдавши мучать здесь людёв.
А к нам в квартиры не входили?
Ключи имели только мы?
А меняли, как хотели,
Замки от дома своего?
А тут дадут ключи:
- Вот, нате!
Менять не смейте!
Копий тож!
А ихний Менежер с ключами?
- Открыть! Проверить, как живёшь?
Ещё отдать:
- Сам не могу я! Рабочим я одним отдал!
Или отдала: послала сделать,
И копию ключей дала!
А ты не знаешь?
Им неважно!
Им важна ВЛАСТЬ чтоб показать.
Ну? иль на взятки намекают?
Втихую где-то? чтоб отстал?
Такого раньше не бывало!
Я 25 тут лет жила.
А это Беспредел.
И мерзко.
Какая это же страна?
Налоги люди собирали,
Казну набрали.
И куда?
Они нам пенсии подняли?
Свои в своей стране гнобя??
Нас умерщвляют тут, приятель.
Заходят, смотрят: чтоб б к рукам?
И пропадают вещи с дома.
Людей - пропали? Много так?
И не советую с России
Сюда я ехать никому.
Где Березовский?
Тот? Приехал?
А был же он Миллионер?
Когда людей нет.
То из дома
Их вещи пропадут. Куда?
- А новые приедут скоро!?
- Тут Англия!
- Ура!
- Ура!
29.09.2023 23:18
Инна Бальзина-Бальзин
Eanna Inna Balzina-Balzin
Ианна Инна Бальзина-Бальзин
"Стихосложение в Англии", стихотворение (29.9.2023. Англия)
https://stihi.ru/2023/09/30/81
http://proza.ru/2023/09/30/8
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The Versification in England
Инна Бальзина-Бальзин
29.09.2023. England. UK
The Versification in England
Poems - streams and couplets -
From God With a Generous hand
They fly from The Sky, From the Sun,
From The Light, From The Nature,
From A Moon, From Stars,
From The Darkness At Night.
I'm not a poet, I didn't study.
I am a full of admiration,
I wonder endlessly:
- What is this Miracle?
Look at, -
I have wrote my these poem!
And I am a vulnerable cloud,
I like a rain drops down then
I send and share , I like a Sewer-Farmer!
My poems are some seeds of day.
I sent a lot, all free, unpaid me.
I share free, as drops from rains.
I share free, as sunny rays,
I share free, as breezes,- a free.
Like music, poems, winds,
When the recorded lines,
I sent out:
- I share mine to you as a gift!
- See? Look at? What have I wrote?
Look at my drawings?
This is a free!
Lot Poets and Artists like this.
They share own artists talents.
They wonder feel
Someone may want
That Expression of Something More Highest.
And then a silence, and not one.
And poems lines, and words, and sounds,
As lots and lots , and chats, and chats
As a memory a loss of something.
I try remember I forgot.
I try remember a strange World.
I feel lots sounds , plenty such.
Somewhere Netherland in chats.
Sometimes, I tried talk with them.
But their languages are unknown.
I listened just some timbres voices,
Females , and males,
Where did all that come from?
I had recorded what they said to me.
I tried find it, - I had managed it.
The Cathedral Santa Maria Consuellione Umbria Togo
Was This Miracle which I opened then.
***
If I would be a Poet
In Ancient Old Greece
Socrates?
Would their King come to me
Sometime there are?
- Oh, My Socrates! Homer!
However!
Was You some child of a Pythia
Was Born?
Suddenly a God from Heaven
In the mouth of the Earth,
And in lines in thousands of streams,
On white leaves
In squiggles:
And someone could wail!
But I compose my poems in England
On Russian.
I was 36 yo woman
Whom leaned this English,
As My Husband
He did not know
Russian.
So, I do try
make some simple line translation
My Poems on Russian
On this Foreign Language to me
Like English.
As he named me
Crazy Russian
Mental Ill Woman
Not able to pronounce properly
English sounds "The", "W",
"Knights", "night", "knife", "knives",
"Know" "now", "knew" "news".
And lots others those these
True-born British
as
Those True-born
Aborigines of England,
They attacked me,
Blamed me:
- Talk on English!
- Or better - to leave England!
- I am not able understand
What about she talked!
Well, this definitely means, -
She is a mental ill!
How was I able to talk
On these "British English"
If My First Language
Was Ukrainian?
After that,
I confused,-another country:
Uzbekistan!
And after? well, after,-
Russia!
And
Latvia
And
UK.
I was 36 years old, coming!
I try.
But I am so tired!
English is a foreign language,
Unknown.
I try say on English,
As I can: as I am able!
But
They could understand so that
Something
Another!
I don't know English myself!
I don't understand What I'm writing to them.
And Why Are They All So Angry On Me After???
Had I Again sent My Poems, Art, Drawings - Pictures
On The Wrong Way Email?
To A Wrong Someone!?
Then They came to me in a huge crowd.
They said me loudly:
- "You Are a Wrong! Bad!
You Are here just a Nothing!"
They scold the trap:
- "Must You NOT
Send your these drawings and poems
To us!"
But I had a short memory, had I?
Since 2001 here in England?
I had founded myself at night
At Unknown Place
With The Full Memory
Dates, Phone Numbers, Addresses?
I had a short left memory
That my name is "Inna"?
That I came to UK from Latvia, Riga.
That My birth was in Khabarovsk in Russia
In far far away year, 1961 on July day.
I had a memory names my two children
And My British Husband.
I had a loss memory names of
All my Teachers, schoolmates,
Names of School, or colleges.
They may say me
I do agree just I do not remember.
I am not able memorise names of clients,
Colleges.
Why does this so strange situation
That British Police may find
a serious crime
in a sending my poems, my drawings
as gifts sharing drops events?
We are women like energy feelings-emotions!
Is this a serious Crime in UK
To be just a normal human
as a person??
Why is this so cruel rude pressure
On women
Be like ROBOTS NO EMOTIONS, NO FEELINGS??
But how so??
When a student
I was sitting, learning my:
The teacher
was sitting on his knees with a neighbour alone.
She's younger: and she's twenty!
She was born here! not me!
When she has her talents,
Seemed to them:
Those are all praising!
- You're doing great!
- Talent and genius!
- I drew it!
- So nobody!
They smiled at her, baring their teeth
With a smile, twisting his mouth.
- And me? What's wrong with me? Such a thing?
A student too!
Also: I, -
When I drew what:
I gave it to the Queen.
I gave away my drawings.
I also sent the poems.
As in a letter to me from Buckingham
They were asked:
- Show me?
But officials don't like it!
Neighbours too, not always.
And even -sob!, - my own native children
Scold me:
- Dear Mum!
- Please Don't write to us ever!
Then The Police will rush in.
Alone, or with a bunch more.
- The denunciation has come. The poems were sent.
- The Denunciation. Your drawing has arrived.
But the Queen showed:
She asked for poems there,
In Russia language, and so that
I sent it to Her Majesty Elizabeth Second.
What poems on Russian from me were accepted
So why had they named like a bad poems
By someone else like a British?
And immediately everyone who wrote
Denunciate a pack on me:
They are Also
Are They Created In Their writings texts something?
And something of its own there
Creating?
And once they came: they scared me.
- A denunciation from your daughter against you!
- Worried: suddenly suincidny?
- And someone else over there.
- "Russian Refugee, named "a mental ill man"
in Russia,
"A Political Refugee in UK",-
Mister Bukovsky:
He was tortured there in USSR!!, Wasn't He?
And as You was born in the USSR, like him?
So,
We Have All Rights Now In England in UK
To name you "A Mental Ill Woman",
To use a force
To our next goal here like
To Torture You (till my death?)
Here in England!"
- We'll take you to a mental hospital now!
And I and this one are a medical nurse.
And this: this is PC Kevin Eyer, Nottinghamshire Policeman UK,
[Whom had came so an uninvited by me
As "someone not see me(own mother) (for a while) was a worried"
To my rented paid regular flat in UK in England].
And Your youngest daughter Kate had called to us to you here!"
I have not saw my children both
And my known relatives for a long time in UK or in England.
I missed my children, continue, asking,
I miss my Daughters native faces and look a lot there
But My daughter, -
She didn't come to see me.
Although I asked so lots plenty many times.
- I miss you here!
Instead,
As soon as I talk about it.
As I brought my children to England,
I had lost them here.
They don't come to meet me their mother.
And are they alive? fine? healthy?
Where are they?
I do not know my youngest daughter's home address.
But as I already pick their choices here
I asked - I want to know
What is with you all here, in UK,
are you well? died? where are you?
And immediately/-
The whole system of power,
With all this powerful wave,
Treats on me their mother:
My Humilation by Officials:
Like UK is a place
There are slaves and the slavery here,
No any human rights of humans
They treat us
Like we would be some Their Cows, Bulls and Chickens,
Their Donors For Orphans and A Meat
"Property" "Humans Farming"!
And a fear came
FEARS
Lots sure they ate us, whom are a humans.
I saw neighbours
They tried to defend their home and bodies,
Making a Fire Possible Explosions Savings.
I saw lots decided better to die here
Some collected a lots a gas and a petrol
In the Containers.
We all waited The Invasions UK
From some Evil Aliens.
British Politicians ruined
British economics.
And there is no right,
Here, - Mister Bukovsky in Russia,
And What About Mister Bukovsky in UK,
Where is he here???
Fears Threats to be murdered, to be a killed, a torture.
See,
Three Unknown Officials
Came to make
My Fears!
And I asked one of them first
Whom said me about Mister Bukovsky
What so damaged HER SMALL BRAIN LITTLE CHILD BODY HEAD:
To said me she wanted THE MY TOURTURES!
I had asked her:
- Can you provide me The Russian Translator, Please?
And The Documentation?
I have my own clean DBS triple time,
But what would be about Yours? Do you have it?
The unknown woman
Had relied to me:
- What is this?
She had not.
There are no documents.
No explanations, nothings.
What even people haven't heard,
The name of that "DBS", working in UK
like a Mental Health Nurses or a Policemen?
- Do you want me to show you? To know?
I had showed my DBS papers, look at!,-
Here, "clean", a year like this, still another, still another here.
Everything is "clean" there, - this is about me.
What is about you all here?
Whom are you all here???
Just one of three them, an unknown to me man,
Whom named himself be PC Kevin Eyer,
Replied to me:
He had this.
Only one policeman of three
Of this "forced power visitors" group
was with his clean "DBS"
and just one whom knew what is this.
But how?
About rights to work in UK
as Mental Health Nurses,
Policemen,
Teachers,
Bank Staff?
And without a license yet?
This is scary.
They knock.
And after they lie, changing words,
Why is all this?
- The Police! Open The Doors!
But when I Had Opened:
- They came Without "DBS"
As British Mental Health Nurses UK,
Whom Wanted me Forced.
Lots missing people in numbers,
and children.
May be they were being so kind and naive?
They opened the door? opened windows??
And then the scheme, Whom Are They?
Whom they are?
This is changed and changed as The strange Move fiction.
To a shock.
To a stress.
To a discomfort.
To a loss my trust me a safe here, in this England.
I dream just to leave UK!!!!!
Already - the denunciation, and take you away!
Again, whom they? "Without DBS! working like this? in UK?"
The shock as a disbelief all!"
Sometimes the same faces.
Then, as "We are Managers"
- "We are from the Agency Leaders, We are checking!"
"Open the door! The door is closed!"
Ah! I remember.
Manager with verification:
How I shoot, where I live.
He didn't go to check the property windows:
Instead
I noticed his look
On My Property
On my underwear: my bra:
He wanted to check it to touch it.
The Leaders Property Manager.
A male,
He had
Asked me, a private tenant:
- What it is here?
His finger
had pointed
on my clothes, waiting be ironed,
and
to my hidden bra here.
- Would you like to see?
- Yes, I do. What is this here!
Look,
This was not My Indian Ethnic Landlord,
About 85 yo man,
Not
Dr Cheedala Lakshmi Narayana's bra
As His Property in Flat
He left letting to rent me
What I rented.
Sorry,
"My Busgalter" is "My" "bra",
That 's not my Landlord's property here,-
To Some "We are British Managers Letting Agency LEADERS"
Which in Mansfield in Nottinghamshire"
Would Come to touch personnel individual items in property
in the rented flat regular monthly paid accommodation :
- "oh! they are not thieves!- those
Whom used keys of rented flat
which rented regular paid by others!"
It was rented out with an apartment on rent,
To live here - and should I wear it?
My property
And personally.
And in England,-
- What a shame!
And there is nothing personal here: prison is like.
You pay rent,
And to them, - to scrap!
- "I'll go into the house: I have the keys.
I'm a Manager! My rights!
And searches,
Go somewhere.
And searches:
With you sometimes.
How disgusting it is.
How disgusting to the soul.
When with me in English,
And the tone,
They don't burn with a dog.
Me, go into the house and live,
Not easy.
I have to pay the money.
They have a lot of keys,
Will you come out?
And they will come in.
And without paying: any doors.
And without paying: we are the power! the law!
And England?
About private prisons
Have you heard?
There are no laws, my friend.
You're going wild. You're being quiet.
You're getting tired.
And how tired,
When are all these animals again,
What is spoken in English.
And they don't understand the words.
The laws protect us.
They spit on all laws!
And they seized this power.
And how painfully miserable,
It's hard for them to help with something here.
And in the USSR, everyone is to blame,
Having given up torturing people here.
And they didn't enter our apartments?
Only we had the keys?
And they changed it as they wanted,
Locks from your house?
And then they will give you the keys:
- Here, here!
Don't you dare change it!
Copies also!
And their Manager with the keys?
- Open it! Check how you live?
More to give:
- I can't do it myself! I gave it to the workers alone!
Or gave: sent to do,
And I gave you a copy of the keys!
Don't you know?
They don't care!
They need the POWER to show.
Well? or are they hinting at bribes?
Quietly somewhere? to get behind?
This has never happened before!
I've lived here for 25 years.
And this is Lawlessness.
And disgusting.
What kind of country is this?
People collected taxes,
The treasury was recruited.
And where?
Have they raised our pensions?
Their own in their own country gnobya??
They're killing us here, buddy.
They come in and watch: to get your hands on it?
And things disappear from the house.
People - disappeared? A lot like that?
And I do not advise from Russia
I'm not going to anyone here.
Where is Berezovsky?
The one? Have you arrived?
But was he a Millionaire?
When there are no people.
That's from home
Their stuff will be gone. Where to?
- And the new ones will arrive soon!?
- This is England!
- Hurrah!
- Hurrah!
29.09.2023 23:18
Inna Balzina-Balzin
Eanna Inna Balzina-Balzin
Ianna Inna Balzina-Balzin
"The Versification in England", poem (29.9.2023. England)
http://stihi.ru/2023/09/30/389
http://proza.ru/2023/09/30/63
Инна Бальзина-Бальзин
Eanna Inna Balzina-Balzin
Ианна Инна Бальзина-Бальзин
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