When Leningrad went retrograd
and resurrected saintly
the dancing bears came back
Cub-trained on hot coals
they quickly learn to Fred Astaire
rhythmic patterns on blistered paws
So, in St. Petersburg, the corpse exhumed
owners bring brown bears on leads
to grass patches by the Neva
Tourist photographs - money in the fur-box hat
wheezy accordion protesting the bitter wind
Everyone sells everything in St. Petersburg
Teachers with no pensions sell their books
Babushkas sell knitted bits and bobs
Young girls and boys sell their bodies
The Mafia sells priceless dreams of blood and misery
The orthodox incense sells the golden mysteries
promising death will be better than this life
And every ordinary person
scraping an existence in the cold
dances with the bears
waiting for the next revolution
First Published in Social Alternative
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem