Monday, January 30, 2023

In that final autumn

This final autumn - not a line, not a sigh.
Final songs have fallen with the summer.
A farewell fire of the epoch burns out,
And we are watching the shadows and the lights
This final autumn.
This final autumn.

An autumn hurricane swept jokingly away
Everything that choked us in the dusty night;
Everything that pushed, played, glittered,
Torn apart by the aspen wind
This final autumn.
This final autumn.

Ah Alexander Sergeevich*, dear,
Why have you told us nothing
Of how you held, searched, and loved?..
Of how that final autumn you knew.
That final autumn.
That final autumn.

Hungry sea, hissing, gulped down
The autumn sun, and, behind the clouds,
You will no longer remember what has been;
You will not touch the dusty grass with your hands…

Poets walk away into the final autumn,
And you cannot bring them back - the blinds are nailed shut.
The rains only remain, and the icy summer;
Love remains, and the stones that rose from the dead.

The song's by gruppa DDT:

... a song which, in its theme, is as much a commentary on today as it was when it first came out in 1992, in the light of the Zelenski NATO Azov war on its own people.  Originally, it was about Pushkin*, who occupies a Shakespearean place over there in both Russia and the former buffer states.

Testimony to this is that the singer is Ukrainian, yet the song's in Russian and one of the translations is in Ukrainian.  Further, after 2014, apparently he made statements, even before Russia made its move, anti Russia, pro Maidan, whereas another group of the time - Chaif - went the other way, strongly backing Russia.

And this is the tragic split of the former USSR ... former brothers in arms were now enemies, thanks to the cabal, NATO and Zelenski. The moment Russia made its move, my Ukro-Russian mate said to me … oh well, that’s the end of my homeland (Donetsk region).

And he was right.

But we could also see the prescient lyrics as commentary on the death of the west … we just had our last autumn, we are now into the winter of our discontent.

Unless something drastic happens.

But there’s more.  Going through various Russian songs the ex-gf and I listened to, plus all my students, I found one I simply can’t run any more. I can’t even listen any more. And I especially can’t watch what the camera picks up … it’s all gone, all past now.

There’s more.  Just as with some of you, places where I was later become hostile to life, not just my own, not unlike Arthur Dent’s earth … it’s unsafe in every country now where I’ve spent any amount of time.

And now, finally, even my own country here is turning toxic. Those of the praying kind know what to do.

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