I was born in a different era
On the day they could murder the world.
Would not say that my life was austere
On the plains of the great eastern horde.
At that time we were young, frank and plucky,
Often touched by a popular chord.
We enjoyed our youth’s vibrant and sparky,
Thought of never-to-end amarcord…
We believed, hearing no air raid sirens,
In a better tomorrow for us.
We explored new frontiers, new horizons
And at times, praising life, raised a glass.
There was always a cause for a party.
For being naughty and cherishing risk
We were left all alone by the mighty,
Quenched with blood, dreadful Red Basilisk.
Gog with Magog and Biblical topics
Never made us adore holy saints.
Yet the spiritual life of agnostics
Gave us plenty of meaning and sense.
Being inactive was dumb and despised,
Rock ‘n roll was appealing and hot.
Our wise leader, who’s never demised,
Always taught us, and taught us, and taught!
In Saint Petersburg’s glamorous gardens,
On the boulevards of ancient Baku
Bread and circuses were in abundance
Even though not allowed to a bull.
Our young hearths were wide open for love and
We were sure our achievements were due.
It’s a shame crooked smirks very often
Knocked us off as lead bullets would do.
Soon the time of those bullets had followed
When our youth was shot down at close range.
A Pandora's Box was widely opened
To release a new bloody exchange.
Someone triggered great failures and losses
That had shuddered the crumbling regime,
And that force swiftly felled the Colossus,
Bold new world of the Bolsheviks’ dream.
Its fall shattered our hopes, aspirations
Setting up former woes to unfold.
Tough young fellas with evil intentions
Yet again were remaking the world…
But a new sense of life was created,
My youth entered one more rocky track –
I have left that vast land of the fated.
Please, don’t ask me to ever come back…
Watercolour by Valeria Revazova
Russian version is here: http://stihi.ru/2020/06/05/4250