A letter of a Russian nephew from Russia to USA for his American uncle

[Andrey son of Lion]

My poem, as humoristic as serious


A letter of a Russian nephew
from Russia to USA
for his American uncle

Hi, uncle Sam! I can suppose,
You’ve never waited me before,
And I have never shown my nose
For home, where you live and store.

I’m here living like a bear in lair
Or, maybe like a swine in wood,
Or like an eagle in the air,
Obtaining for myself my food.

I’d like to mess you, that I offer
You, dear, distant uncle Sam,
To drink with me a cup of coffee
And eat a slice of bread with ham.

I’d like to talk with you, my dear,
About problems in the world,
About what we have to fear,
About when we can be bold.

I think, and more, I can be sure,
That we can understand the way,
How to help them, who is poor,
And them, from way who often stray.

I’d like to mess you, I’m a clever
And in the wisdom knowing man…
Did I do falls in life? That’s never,
Though to do them I began.

I wish, that you, my Sam, come here;
I have been waiting for a long
Time. Then of me you can well hear,
How well I sing for you my song.

I’d like to know, what of business
You have in States or other lands…
Do you support yourself with fitness?
What do you like to do by hands?

I’d like to ask you, uncle dear,
But did you ride on back of horse?
Or elephant? or ass? I have not fear,
But did not ride on two last both…

It’s too expensive, I think so,
To ride on animals like them,
So I go to and fro,
A little envying riding men.

I’d like to buy a horse, but money
Don’t want to find the way toward
My purse. And I will wonder,
If they don’t pay after my word.

My uncle Sam, I ask you, help me,
I want to move myself in world.
I think, I’m sure, that I shell be
The known man when not so old.

I’m very modest, do you know?
And my ambitions – very short,
After I go to and fro –
I make for every time a word.

Then I compose words as poems
And write them so as I can…
And my lines fly like flying Boeing,
Or butterfly, or little hen.

But there are they, who don’t allow
To fly for my rhymes to all men…
My uncle Sam, move with you brow!
And make them make to make all them.

I’d like to meet you, but my wages
Is modest… And I’d like to say,
That all these times a crisis rages,
And for the work they cannot pay.

So I cannot leave my home
And go to the other lands,
And only nearly I roam,
And letters nobody sends.

Forgive me, I have lied a little,
But think, that you will understand,
That I wish: from another people
To me as guest someone be sent.

I hope, that you come, my dear,
Yourself, but if yourself you can’t,
Then try to find around near…
I think, that uncle Sam’s not one.

I’d like to ask you, uncle, dear,
Please, answer soon me, as you can;
As English-speaker I live here
If as I have - off my land – ban.

I have here almost nobody,
Whom I can say an English word,
There’s a lot who try to study,
But they are living like abroad.

They are for business very busy,
They haven’t any time for me,
They run in circle, their need is
To gain their circle and (there) to be.

I don’t see the fault of them,
They have to do all they all do,
But, maybe you, my uncle Sam,
Can give a good advice or two.

If you arrive, you help my language,
Then I express all better all,
I’ll speak as if without bandage,
Then they will fall, and rock, and roll

After my words with loud laughing,
As if their bellies have an ache.
But I with other word them calming –
Then they begin to dance a shake.

I’ll try to stand on ears all them,
Who stand on legs this time before,
I am not fierce, but a strict man,
For sullen I begin my war.

But I’d like say, my distant friend,
I’s very peaceful man before,
But I can be worse than a band,
But I respect, however, law.

And using law, so I begin
To fight for my gigantic right,
There is a hope, I can win
With word and song, that I can write.

Not only word, I can make things,
A seldom man decides to do,
Those are the things for only kings,
But they don’t make ones even few.

And if you come, it can be shown,
I’d like to ask you, don’t say
To everybody that’s my own,
As secret let it be to stay.

My uncle, if you don’t answer,
Then I can fall in sorrow soon,
Please, send me then a real banjo –
Or not, then I will play with spoon.

My uncle, do not make me sorry,
I am expecting very much,
With your arriving I am worry,
Like with an absent cheese a Dutch.

Excuse me, uncle, that it takes
Too much of time for reading what
I’ve written you, but for God’s sake:
I wrote the first time abroad.

I’m sorry, uncle, I was lazy
And didn’t write for you, because
I didn’t know well your language
And learn too late… It is my cause.

From now, uncle Sam, I promise:
I will more frequently write you;
And to the end I add: my home is
Small, but my soul’s wide - it’s true.


P.S. For them, who have read
my letter to my uncle

I know, there is my uncle
Called Sam, and in United States
He rules and reigns over all Yankees,
And he’s the best among my mates!

And if all presidents are changed,
My uncle always stands behind,
From old days he was arranged,
And soon he will be glorified!

I know, uncle Sam will help
His nephew, which is far away,
He will remember me himself,
Find to his relative the way!

And I address my word to them,
Who knows, where Sam can live,
To pass my letter uncle Sam…
I’ll find him: it is my belief!

16-19 January 2012
Andrey son of Lion
Russia, t. Balabanovo, between Moskow and Kaluga,

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