A fighter for social justice, who returned a billion roubles to Russia, poet and winner of an international poetry contest “Pushkin in Britain”
Alexey Ivanov was born July 19, 1971 in Tallinn, and later lived in the Republic of Mari El. Until the mid-2000s he worked as a lawyer in a tax office, defending the financial interests of Russia and in the fight against tax defaulters he restored a billion rubles to the state treasury. Alex came to Ireland in July 2000 because of economic instability at home. He began to write poetry as a student. In 2004 he became the winner of the annual international poetry competition “Pushkin in Britain”, which is held in London and was awarded the title of “Herald of Poets,” and a bronze crown. Published in the magazine “New Times” and in “Nasha Gazeta” and “Mari-El” newspapers. In 2009, Alex ran for the local government for Ireland’s “Green Party” . Alexey Ivanov continues to engage in public activity based on his personal enthusiasm, optimism and a desire to be helpful.
The nineteenth of July was sunny
Dawn seventies, glorious years,
My dad breathed festively:-sonny!
And wrote out my life ticket.
Maternity home under tiled roof
Where just born I rested sweetly.
And old Thomas, as now, you hear?
Tallinn tales evoked dreamily.
Like hurricane, perhaps adventure thirst
My parents raced along the country,
My eyes wide opened in amazement,
I scampered near as a puppy.
I changed the schools, more often than the pants,
Quay looming only for a while,
The time said: Languages, my brother, you should learn,
Stay in the saddle, and tight foot in the stirrup.
My parents found haven of refuge on Volga
So tired after whirligig steeple-chase,
And I was wanted by finance police’s wolves
That charged me crime of economic base.
I got in trap on all accounts with a whistle,
And counted for launch: One, two, three!
I got the job as tax inspector (sort of mizzled)
Like “know how” those problems internally.
That time, I had already two degrees,
But doubt, from a surplus of great mind?
Rather, in high school was just easy,
And real life – plan, work and bustle outlined.
When I was twenty I got married by Divine tip,
And twenty-five! Not fiction, but the fact
In arbitration tribunal I tore judge’s throat,
And earned a billion for country just like that!
However native state kept money – did not share
I did not want to share all my blisters,
About all my talents, state was not aware
I spat, and flew away into another, far from winters.
Irish so kind I like them,
All problems sort by phone call,
In Russia you break neck with something,
And here taken word that’s all!
No bother document or bureaucrat,
And never mind of queue or residence,
Officials happy to see you to chat,
Though God forgive me I have other face.
It seems I am going to expand,
I did not want someone have blamed.
I love when paddle in my hand,
With it believe in luck and fate.
Let wind of changes blows so
However, often to the east,
I am ruling boom, I am pulling rope,
But Moscow poem will released.
I wrote poems of surround,
Science, nature thereby,
If destined that all will sound,
And stars will falling from the sky.
Without poetry my destiny so flat,
I thank it for the fortune sackful
The talents’ strivings that:
The rhyme is aim, and rhyme is tool.
Of all the gifts I do appreciate
Of course the book, and nothing, nothing else.
I would the gifts, just have all cancelled,
And take alive word rightly from bookcase.
Books on my shelf: Wisniewski, Gogol, Trushkin,
And Shenderovich shook my hand in person.
And by my mother’s maiden name I am Pushkin!
You won’t believe, but must admit that is symbolic.
I am working now by first trade
About that my story didn’t say amen,
No, not a lawyer somewhat different,
You want to know? Well, let start again.
The nineteenth of July was sunny…