’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jujub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!’
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought –
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs,
An’ aa’ll tell ye aall an aaful story,
Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs,
An’ Aa’ll tel ye ‘boot ‘the One’.
While the US and ‘Mordor’.
Were busy finalizing.
The biggest exchange of prisoners.
Since the Cold War.
A gifted but little-known.
‘Orc’ pianist was.
Dying in silence.
In jail.
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
The chessmen were walking about.
Two and two!
He had protested.
Repeatedly against.
‘Orcs’ invasion.
Of Ukraine.
And began a hunger strike.
Soon after his arrest.
In May, later.
Refusing water too.
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
The chessmen were walking about.
Two and two!
He died, slowly.
And without publicity.
On 28 July.
– four days before.
A group of better-known dissidents.
Were swapped for ‘the One’’s spies.
Sleeper agents and killers.
Imprisoned in the West.
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
The chessmen were walking about.
Two and two!
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
‘You couldn’t have it.
If you did want it.’
After his lonely death.
At a pre-trial detention centre.
In Birobidzhan.
In ‘Mordor’’s Far East.
The 39-year-old was.
Mourned by only.
11 people.
At his cremation.
An independent politician.
In Siberia said no-one.
Had tried to talk him.
Out of sacrificing himself.
Because they hadn’t.
Been aware.
What was happening.
“We couldn’t chip in.”
“And send him a lawyer.
– we didn’t know.”
She wrote on the Telegram.
“He was alone.”
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
The chessmen were walking about.
Two and two!
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
‘That’s the effect of.
Living backwards.’
The YouTube channel.
Where he published.
Four anti-war videos.
Had only five subscribers.
When he was arrested.
His “Foreign Agent Mulder” posts.
Were a reference to.
A character.
In the US TV series.
The X Files.
Which was popular.
In ‘Mordor’ in the 1990s.
And also to a ‘Mordor’’s law.
That allows people.
Considered politically suspect.
To be declared “foreign agents”.
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
‘The rule is.
Jam to-morrow and.
Jam yesterday.
-but never jam to-day.’
‘It’s jam every other day:
To-day isn’t any other day, you know.’
In one clip.
He even appears.
With a hand-drawn.
FBI badge.
His final film.
Released in January,
Addressed the 2022.
Massacre of civilians.
Addressed the 2022.
Massacre of civilians.
By ‘orcs’ troops in Bucha.
A suburb of Kyiv.
Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs,
An’ aa’ll tell ye aall an aaful story,
Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs,
An’ Aa’ll tel ye ‘boot ‘the One’.
A few months later.
A Telegram channel.
Close to the secret services.
Posted a video.
Showing masked men.
Leading him.
Into a white minivan.
It added that.
A criminal case.
Had been opened.
Accusing him of making.
A public call to engage.
In terrorist activity.
Which is punishable by.
Up to seven years.
In jail.
Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs,
An’ aa’ll tell ye aall an aaful story,
Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs,
An’ Aa’ll tel ye ‘boot ‘the One’.
Nothing more was heard.
Until 2 August.
When the human rights activist.
And the pianist’s friend revealed.
When they revealed.
His death in an article.
Published by.
Online news organisation.
His 79-year-old mother.
Later confirmed.
Her son had died.
Her son had died.
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jujub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!’
He was born in Tambov.
Central ‘Mordor’.
Where his father was.
A pianist and educator.
And his mother.
A music school teacher.
He started playing piano.
At the age of two and.
At just 17.
Gave a remarkable.
Two-and-a-half-hour.
Concert featuring.
The 24 preludes.
And fugues.
By composer.
Dmitri Shostakovich.
Later that year.
He was admitted to.
The Moscow Conservatory.
Where the classmate says.
He cultivated.
A “dissident image”.
Often wearing.
A shabby coat.
And black clothes.
With a half-litre bottle.
Of vodka sticking.
Out of a pocket.
Asked in a 2005 interview.
What composition.
He would never perform.
He replied:
“The ‘Mordor’’s national anthem.”
What composition.
He would never perform?
“The ‘Mordor’’s national anthem.”
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought –
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
After graduation.
The pianist’s friend says.
He deliberately took jobs.
In smaller cities.
Believing he would.
Have more musical.
And personal freedom.
Outside Moscow.
He moved to Yekaterinburg.
Then Kursk.
And spent three years.
In Kurgan.
A city to the east of.
The Ural mountains.
Before he lost.
His job.
At the philharmonic orchestra.
There in 2022.
The pianist’s friend.
Does not know exactly.
Why he was dismissed.
But adds:
“This was a cog.
That didn’t fit any machine.”
“This was a cog.
That didn’t fit any machine.
And it had been that way.
Since his childhood.”
But ‘the One’ got fat an growed and
Growed, an growed an aaful size.
He’d greet big teeth and a greet big gob
An greet big goggly eyes.
After four months.
Without a job.
He became a soloist with.
The Birobidzhan Philharmonic.
Telling local television:
“If I’m not imprisoned.
Drafted into the army.
Or fired.”
“Then I hope.
To spend the next.
12 years.
With you.”
But ‘the One’ got fat an growed and
Growed, an growed an aaful size.
He’d greet big teeth and a greet big gob
An greet big goggly eyes.
He spent his free time.
Protesting against the war.
In emails to friends.
He described sticking posters.
Around Birobidzhan.
At night.
With slogans angrily.
Denouncing the draft.
And describing ‘the One’.
As a fascist.
He also began.
Staging hunger strikes:
First for 20 days.
In the spring of 2023.
Then for three months.
Later that year.
But ‘the One’ got fat an growed and
Growed, an growed an aaful size.
He’d greet big teeth and a greet big gob
An greet big goggly eyes.
The pianist’s friend says.
He knew the danger.
He was putting.
Himself in.
“It was his solitary protest.
An act by someone.
Who didn’t know.
What else he could do.”
She tried to convince.
Him to leave ‘Mordor’.
Or at least.
To perform in Berlin.
Where she now lives.
But they never managed.
But they never managed.
To arrange the trip.
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
The chessmen were walking about.
Two and two!
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
‘There’s the King’s Messenger.
He’s inprison now.’
In late March.
He spoke to the friend.
For the last time.
Telling her he felt like.
He was being.
Watched and that.
He “kept seeing.
The same person”.
“Whatever happens, happens:
I’m doing this.
For a reason.”
He added.
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
‘He’s inprison now.
Being punished;’
‘And the trial doesn’t even.
Begin till Wednesday:
And of course.
The crime comes last of all.’
Birobidzhan City Court records.
Contain no information.
About a criminal case.
Against him.
Though there is a record.
Of a non-criminal case.
Of “petty hooliganism”.
Submitted on 20 June.
On 19 July.
He was fined an unknown amount.
But it is unclear whether.
He attended the hearing.
The court then sent him.
A copy of the verdict.
But it was returned.
On 30 July.
With the note.
“Not possible to deliver”.
By then, of course.
He was already dead.
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
‘Suppose he never.
Commits the crime?’ said Alice.
‘That would be all the better.
Wouldn’t it?’ the Queen said.
‘Of course it would.
Be all the better,’ she said:
One independent news site.
Spoke to someone.
Who saw him shortly.
Before he died.
They described him.
As “like a skeleton”.
Who by mid-July.
Could barely walk.
And was “in very poor condition”.
The official cause of death.
Was “dilated cardiomyopathy.
And congestive heart failure”.
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
‘But it wouldn’t be all the better.
His being punished.’
‘You’re wrong there.
At any rate,’ said the Queen:
‘Were you ever punished?’
‘Only for faults,’ said Alice.
After his death.
His mother told other.
Independent news organisation.
That she had tried.
And failed to.
Influence her son.
“I certainly wanted him.
To conduct himself.”
“In a quieter way.
And stay out of.
Politics altogether.
I am very sorry.”
“I am very sorry.
That he gave up.
His life apparently.
For nothing at all.”
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
‘And you were all the better.
For it, I know!’
The Queen said triumphantly.
‘Yes, but then I had done the things.
I was punished for,’ said Alice:
‘That makes all the difference.’
But the pianist’s friend.
Disagrees saying that.
He knew all along.
That he was risking his life.
So that he could express.
His anti-war views.
“He understood there might.
Have been another way.”
“But by the time.
He had realised it.
There was no turning back.
He knew he was going.”
“He knew he was going.
To go all the way.
– so it wouldn’t turn out.
To be a wasted effort.”
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
‘But if you hadn’t done them,’ the Queen said,
‘That would have been better still;’
‘Better, and better, and better!’
Alice was just beginning to say.
‘There’s a mistake somewhere-.’
When the Queen began screaming so loud.
In death, he has attracted.
More attention than.
He ever received.
In his lifetime.
A book he wrote.
In 2014.
Has quickly been republished.
In Germany.
Once his classmate and a member.
Of the celebrated music group.
Wrote an emotional tribute.
To her “gentle and funny” friend.
And 22 leading classical musicians.
Wrote an open letter to.
Remember a “remarkable artist”.
They had never met.
His most popular clip.
Has now been viewed.
More than 22,000 times.
After his death.
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
The chessmen were walking about.
Two and two!
A gifted but little-known.
‘Orc’ pianist was.
Dying in silence.
In jail.
While the US and ‘Mordor’.
Were busy finalizing.
The biggest exchange of prisoners.
Since the Cold War.
Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs,
An’ aa’ll tell ye aall an aaful story,
Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs,
An’ Aa’ll tel ye ‘boot ‘the One’.
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought –
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jujub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!’
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
*Because I read “The lonely death of a jailed Russian pianist who opposed war” by Elizaveta Fokht on 25 Aug 2024, and also “Why are Ukrainians calling Russians ‘orcs’?” by James FitzGerald on 30 Apr 2022, on the BBC news.
So, I wrote this poem, as a story of Pavel Kushnir, led by ‘Jabberwocky’ from ‘THROUGH the LOOKING-GLASS’ written by Lewis Carroll, and itself, you know.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
Pavel Kushnir: Lonely death of jailed anti-war Russian pianist
