Andrei
Aliaksandrau

Andrei Aliaksandrau was born in Nizhny Tagil, Russia on January 27, 1978. As a child, Andrei lived in Pastavy, Belarus. He started his career in journalism in Navapolatsk, and in 2009-2012 he was the deputy chairman of the Belarusian Association of Journalists (BAJ). Andrei Aliaksandrau studied at the University of Westminster in London, where he received a master's degree in media management. In 2015-2018, he was the deputy director of the BelaPAN news agency. Later he worked as a media consultant.

Andrei was detained in early 2021 together with his friend Iryna Zlobina. He was accused of "financing the protests" through the BY_help crowdfunding platform. Andrei is named in the "BelaPAN case." During his imprisonment, he married Iryna Zlobina, who is also a defendant in the case. Andrei was sentenced to 14 years in prison.

In 2021, he was announced as the laureate of the Francišak Alachnovič Award, which was founded in 2013 by the Belarusian PEN-Center together with Radio Svaboda and is awarded for works based on the author's personal prison experience.

Find Andrei's current address on his  PERSONAL PAGE at the Viasna Human Rights Center website. Click  SEND A POSTCARD  to support him and sign a postcard for the political prisoner.

# (translated by Hanna Komar)

#

 

When you look out through the bars at the sky,

It’s not bars you see but the sky overhead.

Yesterday’s bread smells of mold and loss,

but tomorrow’s smells like genuine bread.

 

You say: the sky is a trick of the light.

But the bars are the trick of the light, I say!

Because bars are a hashtag, 

just a habit, right?

And this is the hashtag trending today.

 

Yet the sky cares nothing for hashtags at all,

the sky has no thought for trends up ahead,

it does not feel the ground where our feet fall,

nor count the centuries and slices of bread.

 

The sky just draws clouds of cotton wool 

over time — this is all that goes on really.

And the sky does not see any bars at all

when it peers deep into the sky in me.

 

Translated from Belarusian by Hanna Komar for Index on Censorship in 2023

# (translated by Natallia Zalatykh)

#

 

When you look at the sky through the bars
You don’t see bars, you see the sky.
Yesterday’s bread smells loss and must,
and tomorrow’s bread smells rye.


You say that the sky is an optic illusion
But the illusion are the bars, believe me!
Because the bars are only a hashtag,
allusion
To the trend that is popular lately.

 

But the sky doesn’t care about hashtags,
It doesn’t care about any trends,
It doesn’t stand firmly on the ground,
It doesn’t count centuries and bread flakes.


The sky pulls the cloud wool
beyond the time – the only alive.
The sky doesn’t see the bars as well
When it looks in me at my sky.

 

Translated from Belarusian by Natallia Zalatykh

"It's summer and hell..."

It’s summer and hell.

The life is on pause.

The news comes like snail.
Much faster comes mail.

 

The letters bring love.
The news — hell above.
The plans go in vain.
The head goes insane.

 

The movie’s on war.
The battalions go forth.
Here comes one more flight.
The command is to fight.

 

Here comes all the hell.
And the enemy’s well.
Take no captives at all.
As the enemies are we all.


Take a seat. Be at home.
Holly heat! Take a pause.
War and tiredness pass.
And we’ll see paradise.

"saddened september is sketching..."

saddened september is sketching

oceans october obeys.

silk in the darkness is rustling

in thin yellow paper of leaves.

 

sky, tangled blanket, is dreaming

glum lullaby for the sleet.

this world will end. for a new one

i’ll wake you up.

you can sleep.

 

Translated from Belarusian by Volya

"I wish I could write you some verses..."

I wish I could write you some verses — and not to be censured since; the chasing knight on the banner is what now they claim “extremist”. It won’t be praised by our postman — my authorship won’t be rewarded. Then not in verse, but in prose; I’m writing to you: “Everything will be alright”.

In language and poems, in bright people that are in dark places, — Belarus Lives.

Andrei
Aliaksandrau

Andrei Aliaksandrau was born in Nizhny Tagil, Russia on January 27, 1978. As a child, Andrei lived in Pastavy, Belarus. He started his career in journalism in Navapolatsk, and in 2009-2012 he was the deputy chairman of the Belarusian Association of Journalists (BAJ). Andrei Aliaksandrau studied at the University of Westminster in London, where he received a master's degree in media management. In 2015-2018, he was the deputy director of the BelaPAN news agency. Later he worked as a media consultant.

Andrei was detained in early 2021 together with his friend Iryna Zlobina. He was accused of "financing the protests" through the BY_help crowdfunding platform. Andrei is named in the "BelaPAN case." During his imprisonment, he married Iryna Zlobina, who is also a defendant in the case. Andrei was sentenced to 14 years in prison.

In 2021, he was announced as the laureate of the Francišak Alachnovič Award, which was founded in 2013 by the Belarusian PEN-Center together with Radio Svaboda and is awarded for works based on the author's personal prison experience.

Find Andrei's current address on his  PERSONAL PAGE at the Viasna Human Rights Center website. Click  SEND A POSTCARD  to support him and sign a postcard for the political prisoner.

# (translated by Hanna Komar)

#

 

When you look out through the bars at the sky,

It’s not bars you see but the sky overhead.

Yesterday’s bread smells of mold and loss,

but tomorrow’s smells like genuine bread.

 

You say: the sky is a trick of the light.

But the bars are the trick of the light, I say!

Because bars are a hashtag, 

just a habit, right?

And this is the hashtag trending today.

 

Yet the sky cares nothing for hashtags at all,

the sky has no thought for trends up ahead,

it does not feel the ground where our feet fall,

nor count the centuries and slices of bread.

 

The sky just draws clouds of cotton wool 

over time — this is all that goes on really.

And the sky does not see any bars at all

when it peers deep into the sky in me.


Translated from Belarusian by Hanna Komar for Index on Censorship in 2023

# (translated by Natallia Zalatykh)

#

 

When you look at the sky through the bars
You don’t see bars, you see the sky.
Yesterday’s bread smells loss and must,
and tomorrow’s bread smells rye.


You say that the sky is an optic illusion
But the illusion are the bars, believe me!
Because the bars are only a hashtag,
allusion
To the trend that is popular lately.

But the sky doesn’t care about hashtags,
It doesn’t care about any trends,
It doesn’t stand firmly on the ground,
It doesn’t count centuries and bread flakes.


The sky pulls the cloud wool
beyond the time – the only alive.
The sky doesn’t see the bars as well
When it looks in me at my sky.

 

Translated from Belarusian by Natallia Zalatykh

"It's summer and hell..."

It’s summer and hell.

The life is on pause.

The news comes like snail.
Much faster comes mail.

 

The letters bring love.
The news — hell above.
The plans go in vain.
The head goes insane.

 

The movie’s on war.
The battalions go forth.
Here comes one more flight.
The command is to fight.

 

Here comes all the hell.
And the enemy’s well.
Take no captives at all.
As the enemies are we all.


Take a seat. Be at home.
Holly heat! Take a pause.
War and tiredness pass.
And we’ll see paradise.

"saddened september is sketching..."

saddened september is sketching

oceans october obeys.

silk in the darkness is rustling

in thin yellow paper of leaves.

 

sky, tangled blanket, is dreaming

glum lullaby for the sleet.

this world will end. for a new one

i’ll wake you up.

you can sleep.

 

Translated from Belarusian by Volya

"I wish I could write you some verses..."

I wish I could write you some verses — and not to be censured since; the chasing knight on the banner is what now they claim “extremist”. It won’t be praised by our postman — my authorship won’t be rewarded. Then not in verse, but in prose; I’m writing to you: “Everything will be alright”.

In language and poems, in bright people that are in dark places, — Belarus Lives.