Chichikov now

Through endless gloom of ages, one light endures,
The blazing star we hail—Gogol's immortal fire.
Your mystic tales still throb within our veins, impure,
But only Dead Souls feel no spark of that desire.
Your shades walk here among us, cloaked in modern guise.

Behold! A luxury car, sleek chariot of deceit,
'Tis Pavel Chichikov, the phantom's sly retreat.
He traded once in corpses, a ledger's grim charade—
Now peddles hollow dreams to state, in gold arrayed.

The classics are eternal! They saw it all, they knew!
Their heroes haunt our midst, in all we say and do!
The scenery shifts, the stage gleams fresh and new—
But human nature lingers, base and ever true!

He dines with ministers in crowns of burnished gold,
A shark in tailored silk, through shadowed halls he rolls.
He hunts the provinces, culls weaklings from the fold—
No malice in the game... mere business, sharp and cold.

The classics are eternal! They saw it all, they knew!
Their heroes haunt our midst, in all we say and do!
The scenery shifts, the stage gleams fresh and new—
But human nature lingers, base and ever true!