On the Danger Physicists Run Learning Foreign Languages

ON THE DANGER PHYSICISTS RUN LEARNING FOREIGN LANGUAGES

A specialist is said to need a foreign language

If all his life he doesn’t want among

Backbenchers languish

With just his mother tongue.

I should have questioned it, but I was young

And saw to it that it was done.

And five I learned—not one!

No words to describe how happy I was!

It was heaven—and simply because,

As I’d been told, I was—

Without doubt—the real boss.

But soon I was completely at a loss.

But first things first.

And first—no need to stress—

Comes the scientific press.

There were some useless journals in the library,

But neither crying or bribery

Could get you even Radiation Effects.

Small wonder it adversely affects

The industry that such research effects.

I thought: “If I’ve no right

To read what I might,

I might as well write what I might

And publish wherever I might.”

But then another industry revealed its might—

The worst to fight—

And said: “Of course. Wherever you might.

Only not abroad.”

The reason? Ask the overlords

If you aren’t overawed.

There’s been some talk of going there to study.

I could use new ideas, for my head was muddy.

Again: “Suppose—unmarried—you went abroad.

And then a broad… We simply can’t afford.”

For science as such I’d sacrifice much,

But that was a touch too much.

Let science bust—

I won’t marry till I must!

So science can’t be read and can’t be written.

Yet I could speak—I wasn’t beaten.

But when I found out

That if a foreign guest should be about

I couldn’t sound him out

Because hush-hush department

Would veto such a partner.

Science and languages fell out.

For some time all I did was pout.

But being tricked and kicked,

I wasn’t licked.

I thought I still could have some fun

On the side—on every other but this one.

Alas! It wasn’t in the cards.

Nowhere anything in sight in our yard

(But some say neighbours have it OK).

No motion scenes

In a cinema to be seen.

Not even TV to watch

With a bottle of Scotch.

No books or papers to be read—

I might as well be dead.

Yet lo! My boat is still afloat.

I owe it to poetry alone

That my throat isn’t cut.

But

The Muse has been ready to take credit

For all my musings to carefully edit.

Curse as I may—

Versed in physics, not in verses—

Verses are all I make.

Alexander V Demidov

4 January 1989