Drinking In The Ussr Poem by Lev Brekhman
Drinking In The Ussr
It was, of course, long ago,
But we are still alive,
The drinking: as a sort of vow,
And just a little of jive.
Short-haired, sodden working-classes,
Long-haired, sodden artists and the sort.
You did not need the looking-glasses
To see what all this was done for.
The time was enemy and foe,
We simply had to kill it, kill…
Two-bottles-drunk: you are hero,
But not enough to feel your fill.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/7/2024 3:56:12 AM # 1.0.0.1119
