Since relocating to Hungary, he has continued to write and translate poetry, with his work regularly appearing in Hungarian literary periodicals.

He has published two poetry collections in Hungary: Rövid hullámok (Short Waves, 2021) and Vtoraya Zhizn (Second Life, 2025).

His translations of Hungarian poetry have appeared in major Russian literary magazines and have been published as separate volumes in Russia and Latvia.

In 2025, he organized an international poetry festival in Budapest, featuring 26 poets from 12 countries. Sergey is an active member of the Hungarian PEN Club.

1. When did you arrive in Hungary and what brought you here?

I first came to Budapest in 2003 with a group of Moscow journalists covering the Sziget Festival. Back then, I knew almost nothing about Hungary—but I was immediately struck by the beauty of the place, the richness of its culture, and the warmth of its people. After that, my wife Anna and I started coming back regularly — several times a year, not just to Budapest but around the country — and each time, we fell more and more in love with it.

When we finally decided to emigrate from Russia for political reasons—I’ve always been critical of the regime, long before the war broke out — we couldn’t agree on where to go. Anna, who is an artist of traditional Japanese ink painting, wanted to move to Southeast Asia, and I was leaning toward Latin America — basically the farthest place from Russia I could think of. Neither of us liked the other’s choice. I don’t remember who said “Hungary” first, but the moment the word was spoken, something clicked. It just made sense for us both.

 So here we are, eleven years on — no regrets.

2. Have you ever been an expatriate elsewhere?

In my former life, I was the CEO of a London-based software development company, so I split my time between London and Moscow for a few years, and I also spent some time in northern Italy. So yes, Hungary isn’t my first experience living abroad — but it’s the first place that’s ever truly felt like home.

3. What surprised you most about Hungary?

Oh, don’t get me started! Hungary was full of surprises from the very beginning—and still is.
As a poet, I feel a strong connection to the quiet melancholy that runs through Hungarian culture. On a personal level, I’m drawn to that mix of historical trauma and dry humor—a kind of emotional complexity that feels strangely familiar for a Russian, yet unmistakably Hungarian.

When I began learning the language, I was enchanted by its fierce independence, and by how deeply it shapes people’s sense of identity. And of course, the more I read Hungarian literature, the more I admire its strength and depth, and the genuine respect that still exists here for poetry and the written word.

4. Friends are in Budapest for a weekend - what must they absolutely see and do? 

I’d say, start at Heroes' Square, then take a slow walk down Andrássy Avenue—past Kodály körönd and Oktogon — to the Opera. Stop for a coffee at one of the cafés, soak in the atmosphere, then continue on to the Basilica and make your way down to the Danube embankment.

By that point, you might feel like you’ve captured the spirit of Budapest—but wait! Head to the Jewish Quarter and the (in)famous Party District in the evening, and let the city surprise you all over again.

5. What is your favourite Hungarian food?

Szegedi halászlé with fresh crusty bread—nothing beats it. And don’t forget a spoonful of Erős Pista to give it the proper kick. We have a favorite spot in Zugló that does it just right, but honestly, it’s hard to go wrong with a good halászlé.

6. What is never missing from your refrigerator?

A bottle of champagne — always chilled. You never know what comes up. Sometimes it’s for joy, sometimes for survival. Sometimes just to feel the sparkle in the dark. 

7. What is your favourite Hungarian word?

Egészségetekre! That’s the word that starts a good evening with my Hungarian friends—and often ends it too. It carries more than just a toast, it’s a moment of connection, a shared breath before the words begin.
    
8. What do you miss most from home? 

The view from my old balcony in central Moscow — the way the sunsets lit up the glass walls of the Moscow City skyscrapers, almost unreal. I don’t catch sunsets as often in Budapest, and I do miss that.
Other than that, not much. It was an unforgettable chapter of my life, but it’s over. The page has turned, and this second life is something entirely different. 

And now, the home is here.

9. What career other than yours would you love to pursue?

I’m quite happy with the way things have turned out. But if I’m allowed to dream a little—maybe I’d start a poetry magazine, something dedicated to discovering and promoting young talents (and there are so many out there!). Or I’d move to the countryside to make truly great wine. Something slow, honest, and rooted in the earth.

10. What's a job you would definitely never want?

Any office job — nine-to-five, corporate structure, all that. Even when I ran my own business, I was always a bit of an anarchist, defying the norms and rules. I wouldn’t last a week in a typical office, no matter how good the salary.
 

11. Where did you spend your last vacation?

For the past 25 years, around my wife’s birthday, we spend two or three weeks in Venice. It’s winter—off-season — so the city isn’t overcrowded, and we both enjoy it, each for our own reasons. 

For me, it’s a kind of pause — a space to breathe, to revisit old poems, to reflect on what has passed and what might still be to come. This year was no different. Venice always gives me more than it takes.

12. Where do you hope to spend your next holiday?

We’re planning a trip to Glastonbury this summer — not the famous festival, but the town itself. I’ve always had an affection for the English countryside, and the layers of myth and legend woven into these Somerset fields only add to the magic.

I’ve been there a few times before, and each visit felt special in its own way—quietly meaningful, almost otherworldly. I’m very much looking forward to returning.

13. Apart from temptation what can't you resist?

Oh, so many small things. A good glass of wine at the wrong time of day. That quiet urge to rewrite a poem I thought was finished. Late-night conversations. Watching the stars in an autumn sky.

To be honest, I’m not even sure why we’re supposed to resist. 

14. What was your favourite band, film, or hobby as a teen?

Umm, the band? I think it must have been The Doors. There was something in Jim Morrison’s voice, in his words, in his stage persona, that first revealed to me the raw, untamed force of poetry — how it can cut through the noise and touch something essential. That was the point of no return for me, a moment of revelation. I still listen to their records, especially the old bootlegs that surface now and then — they carry something of the true nature of poetry and music. 

As for books, Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita left a deep mark. I first read it in samizdat — a faded typewritten copy passed hand to hand. It wasn’t just another book — it was the first time I saw writing treated as sacred. “Manuscripts don’t burn.” That phrase from the novel stayed with me. Through its layers of satire, mythology, and quiet defiance, the book opened a door — not just to literature, but to religion, mystery, and the idea that truth survives, even when everything else is stripped away.

15. Red wine or white?

Red, definitely red. I think Hungarian red wine is vastly underrated internationally. Looks like its reputation suffers a bit because of cheap bikavér—the variety most widely known outside Hungary, which is too often mediocre rather than exceptional.

Personally, I’m drawn to the wines from Sopron and Szekszárd. Kékfrankos and cabernet franc from these regions are real gems.

After moving to Hungary, I wrote a book about Hungarian wine and winemaking. While working on it, I visited wineries across the country, meeting producers and learning their stories firsthand. The book was published in Russia and sold out rather quickly. 

Maybe it’s time for another one.

16. Book or movie?

I rarely watch films — text has always meant more to me than moving images.
These days, I read some prose, mostly non-fiction and memoirs, but poetry remains the overwhelming dominant. I read every poem I can get my hands on—old and new, Hungarian, Russian, English, translations and originals, good and bad, on paper and online. It’s basically my natural habitat at this point.

17. Morning person or night person?

Night changes everything, doesn’t it? I’m a late starter and can easily stay up until dawn.

18. Which social issue do you feel most strongly about?

What concerns me most is the growing sense of division — between people, communities, and ways of thinking. Nowhere is it more visible than on social media, which is why I no longer have any accounts. I believe in whatever brings us closer, but it’s just as important to name the invisible lines we place between ourselves and others.

Living as an expat, you become especially aware of those lines — cultural, linguistic, emotional. And then you learn how fragile and artificial they often are. Poetry, at its best, can cross them.

19. Buda or Pest side?

Talking about the sense of division! Well, I love both Buda and Pest—and Óbuda, by the way.
Pest is just a little closer to my idea of an ideal city: it’s flat, not too big, not too small, lively and joyful, yet somehow still feels safe. There’s always something happening, but you can find quiet corners too. That’s why I live there, in a loft near Hősök tere.

Visiting Buda or Óbuda almost feels like stepping into a different town altogether—which makes it a small adventure every time.

20. What would you say is your personal motto? 

I’ve never had a motto — there’s no coat of arms to put it on! But now that I think about it, one of critics’ review of my most recent book was titled “Poetry Above All.” 

If I ever need a motto, that’s the one.