Putin sports a Mona Lisa KGB smile.
The lyrics of the hymn to the triumph of
Communism's unbreakable Union
Have now been switched to,
"Russia, our beloved country,
We are so gloriously proud of you."
Not even in name does my Moscow exist--
Half the streets have been reassigned, the
Five-story Khrushevka where they leered,
"Amerika, howzya doin'?'" while I lugged pails of
Rubbish, has been demolished in favor of
A newer model. Good riddance.
Bolshaya Akademicheskaya's mildewed
Apple orchards have long forgotten me.
But Tal'kov, reeking of Limonnaya, still marches
Into my sleep, singing, "Laughing over your memory..."
And Listyev, undaunted by bullets, appears,
Prepared to banter. We discuss the merits
Of his suspenders by a Celtic cross
In Kolomenskoe. And wait for sunrise.
A salesman-voice on television describes
All Russians as dreamers. An explosive
Guffaw interrupts the programming.
The source is my daughter. Masha.
"It's an inside joke," she explains, tittering.
"You see, I'm the only Russian in the room."
Borsch is okay, but Cyrillic and the
Rustling of the Slavic shuchu, shuchu *
Give this refusenik the hives.
Byzantine Paraskeva-eyes flashing, she
Declaims decisively in German,
"Ein Blatt. Es lag im Gras."
An undecipherable saboteur,
She drops constant stealth-bombs,
Swearing, sneakily, in Japanese.
* (I'm joking.)
For comparison purposes--different lyrics, same score:
The Soviet National Anthem.
The Russian National Anthem.
For those who are boycotting the Olympics, here is the Russian Police Choir's version of Daft Punk's "Get Lucky" in Sochi.
If this post sounds a bit hard-boiled--apologies--just a bit of poking fun at one's own self & life.
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