The Poet s Second, Non-Maternal Language

The Poet’s Second, Non-Maternal Language

"How can you write poetry in English? It’s not your native language. True poets—those born to it—are rare enough among native speakers, let alone for someone coming to it later in life," my old friend Alex asked me, raising a familiar question. His skepticism wasn’t new, but today it felt sharper. “Do you take up your quill pen, dip it in ink, and simply write in English? Or is there a pool of ideas in Russian that you translate with the help of AI, which then ‘transforms’ it into poetry?” With his towering height and fair hair, he loomed over me like a heron poised to gulp down a little fish.

I smiled. “Not exactly,” I replied. “There’s more to it than that. I do pick up my pen and write—sometimes in English, sometimes in Russian. Later, I type it up and often set it aside for years. Some of my poems go all the way back to 2004. A few years later, in Campbell River, I decided to formalize things a bit; I joined a writing program. I studied storytelling, crafted poems, and shared my work with English-speaking friends, who helped shape my approach.”

Alex seemed intrigued, though his gaze still held a questioning look. “But even so,” he began, “how can it feel natural? Surely, you encounter barriers—linguistic, cultural…maybe even personal?”

His question touched on a dilemma I know well. “True. But I started young, back at the Moscow Military Music College, where we studied languages intensively. By the time I’d finished, I knew German; later, at Moscow State University, I added French and Spanish. I even earned my degree in French translation, which helped deepen my comfort with language. But it was my son Vassili who brought me back to poetry in English. He saw the potential for a wider audience, beyond just Russian-speaking circles. And then, something unexpected happened. AI tools came into play.”

“Ah, so AI is part of the process!” he exclaimed.

“Yes and no,” I clarified. “My AI assistant helps translate, yes, but it doesn’t do the work for me. It’s more like a secretary with a library of English styles at its disposal. Still, my edits, my words, and my vision guide the process.”

After a pause, I continued, “When I recently returned to my old notebooks, AI had evolved. The new technology could recognize my style and align with my poetic voice. It offered insight rather than translations. I still spend entire days refining a single poem. The work is intense, but I welcome it. And so, I’ve amassed a collection—poems drawn from my own experiences, from my life as a father, a man shaped by different cultures, even as a former cadet who once saw the world through a young boy’s eyes.”

Alex nodded, mulling it over. "I get it," he said. "You bring Russian soul and spirit into English form."

“Exactly, soul. That’s it!” I replied. “Poetry is the most concise expression of thought and imagery. I have a Russian soul and the best education in the world, along with a lifetime of experience. Shakespeare isn’t perfect either, and I don’t strive for perfection. I strive for connection. And just maybe, my work will find the readers it was meant to find.”