This month, the winner of the Poet prize was solemnly announced in a ceremony at the Savoy Hotel. It was the second time the prize had been awarded.

Designed to honor living Russian-language poets, the prize is backed by Unified Energy Systems, the national power utility, and its boss, Anatoly Chubais. It offers the winner $50,000 -- a huge sum for a literary award, especially one in poetry. For last year's inaugural competition, the jury was carefully selected from mainstream writers and critics; Chubais' officials wisely refrained from influencing the process.

It has been argued that the pantheon of mainstream Russian poets alive today consists of no more than a dozen people. These include, among others, the technically brilliant Sergei Gandlevsky; Bella Akhmadulina, the icon of the liberal '60s; Yevgeny Rein, whose reputation as the late Joseph Brodsky's best friend is at least as important for his poetic image as his verse; and the mystical and laconic Olga Sedakova. Individual lists may vary, but the core remains essentially the same. St. Petersburg poet Alexander Kushner would certainly be on anyone's list, so it was no surprise that he became the first recipient of the award last year.

This year, Kushner chaired the jury, and the choice of the winner -- Moscow poet Olesya Nikolayeva -- surprised many. A graduate of the Gorky Literary Institute, Nikolayeva is the author of several books on Russian Orthodoxy, some translations from French and a critically acclaimed novel; her resume also includes such exotic entries as teaching Greek to icon painters. One of her recent collections was published with the blessing of the Saratov diocese. In short, Nikolayeva can be confidently called an Orthodox poet, and her recent television appearances -- in which she condemned pop culture, using rhetoric characteristic of the clergy -- proved as much.

The Poet prize was meant to honor unique and lasting contributions to poetry, and its first iteration was right on the mark. Nikolayeva, though a fine poet, is still rather marginal in the context of modern Russian literature; she is strongly tied to one group and does not transcend it. Moreover, her poetic style is deeply influenced by Brodsky's, although ideologically she is his complete opposite. Whether the jury's decision was a glitch or a political statement -- after all, the church seems to be gaining power by the minute -- will remain unknown until at least next year. It has to be remembered, though, that literary awards are an arbitrary and subjective business, and there will always be people offended or flabbergasted by any decision.