"ussr" poems - Hello Poetry

The Hawker Hurricane is a British fighter design from the 1930s. Some 14,000 Hurricane and Sea Hurricane fighters and fighter-bombers were built by the end of 1944。 August 1940 brought what has become the Hurricane's shining moment in history: The Battle of Britain. RAF Hurricanes accounted for more enemy aircraft kills than all other defenses combined, including all aircraft and ground defenses. Later in the war, the Hurricane served admirably in North Africa, Burma, Malta, and nearly every other theater in which the RAF participated. The Hurricane underwent many modifications during its life, resulting in many major variants, including the Mk IA, with interchangeable wings housing eight 7.7mm (0.303in) guns;the Mk IIC, with a Merlin ** engine; the Mk IID, a tankbuster with two 40mm anti-tank guns plus two 7.7mm guns. During the war, Hurricanes were sold to Egypt, Finland, India, the Irish， Persia, Turkey and the USSR Air Corps.More in http://www.rangorango.com/124-series-c-1_5.html

0

Aug 28, 2013

Aug 28, 2013 at 4:08 AM UTC

toywill

1/24 Scale model Hurricane Mk IID/Trop

The Hawker Hurricane is a British fighter design from the 1930s. Some 14,000 Hurricane and Sea Hurricane fighters and fighter-bombers were built by the end of 1944。 August 1940 brought what has become the Hurricane's shining moment in history: The Battle of Britain. RAF Hurricanes accounted for more enemy aircraft kills than all other defenses combined, including all aircraft and ground defenses. Later in the war, the Hurricane served admirably in North Africa, Burma, Malta, and nearly every other theater in which the RAF participated. The Hurricane underwent many modifications during its life, resulting in many major variants, including the Mk IA, with interchangeable wings housing eight 7.7mm (0.303in) guns;the Mk IIC, with a Merlin ** engine; the Mk IID, a tankbuster with two 40mm anti-tank guns plus two 7.7mm guns. During the war, Hurricanes were sold to Egypt, Finland, India, the Irish， Persia, Turkey and the USSR Air Corps.More in http://www.rangorango.com/124-series-c-1_5.html

1

******** ever look... i can't believe i'm doing this... ever notice the . . . . . constellation? when i'm in a good mood, do i seriously need to be listening to the bangles and reading a dolly alderton article? reliving this 1980s feminism death-trap of: anything but useless professions? guess not... i'll be entrenched for 30 years before my student debt is written, and i'm not expected to work the supermarket shelving troop when i could be working a chemistry plant job up in Scotland... sidewise lambda... or a V... which makes W a double-u... not a double o - and certainly not what it looks like: vv... cheap choke joke... what does BMW stand for? Black Man's Wagon... funny, eh? i didn't think so either... USNA! USNA! **** it... might as well revive the old USSR... united stastes of north america... figured... for me USA! USA! is a football chant... i'm liking this new acronym pause... with the added letter... **** you have to think of something with the long lost USSR long gone, dusted and buried... plus it's befitting... with that's current happening... Silicon Curtain: a little of censorship here, a little censorship there... happy campers... all the way! like i said before: i'm star-gazing: you have to be, ******** me!

0

Sep 23, 2018

Sep 23, 2018 at 8:23 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

i hate being a sentimental drunk

******** ever look... i can't believe i'm doing this... ever notice the . . . . . constellation? when i'm in a good mood, do i seriously need to be listening to the bangles and reading a dolly alderton article? reliving this 1980s feminism death-trap of: anything but useless professions? guess not... i'll be entrenched for 30 years before my student debt is written, and i'm not expected to work the supermarket shelving troop when i could be working a chemistry plant job up in Scotland... sidewise lambda... or a V... which makes W a double-u... not a double o - and certainly not what it looks like: vv... cheap choke joke... what does BMW stand for? Black Man's Wagon... funny, eh? i didn't think so either... USNA! USNA! **** it... might as well revive the old USSR... united stastes of north america... figured... for me USA! USA! is a football chant... i'm liking this new acronym pause... with the added letter... **** you have to think of something with the long lost USSR long gone, dusted and buried... plus it's befitting... with that's current happening... Silicon Curtain: a little of censorship here, a little censorship there... happy campers... all the way! like i said before: i'm star-gazing: you have to be, ******** me!

65

Oh for a world without wars! Free of terrorists. Where each and every one of us Can go about our daily lives Without any fear. But I read somewhere That there may be a price to pay: Loss of Freedom. Think of the USSR, or better still, Yugoslavia. Ruled by rods of iron These counties showed us facades Of calm. But once those dictatorships disappeared then Those underlying differences emerged. The Balkan States were a case in point: When Yugoslavia went All hell broke out! So when I suggested that A benevolent world government Might cure our ills, A warning was shot across my bows: “Be careful what you wish for!” For what good is “Peace” When no one dare speak out Or act in a “different” way? “1984” soon springs to mind: Droves of mindless clones Dumbed down by drugs And Media driven hypnosis. Totalitarianism at its worst. What we really need is an end to violence And every other form of Abuse. Free thought Married with respect and tolerance To our fellow men And women. World Peace only comes free When the people are free too. Freedom of the individual Based on mutual respect And better still On Love. Paul Butters

0

Jul 2, 2017

Jul 2, 2017 at 6:11 AM UTC

paul-butters

What Price World Peace?

Oh for a world without wars! Free of terrorists. Where each and every one of us Can go about our daily lives Without any fear. But I read somewhere That there may be a price to pay: Loss of Freedom. Think of the USSR, or better still, Yugoslavia. Ruled by rods of iron These counties showed us facades Of calm. But once those dictatorships disappeared then Those underlying differences emerged. The Balkan States were a case in point: When Yugoslavia went All hell broke out! So when I suggested that A benevolent world government Might cure our ills, A warning was shot across my bows: “Be careful what you wish for!” For what good is “Peace” When no one dare speak out Or act in a “different” way? “1984” soon springs to mind: Droves of mindless clones Dumbed down by drugs And Media driven hypnosis. Totalitarianism at its worst. What we really need is an end to violence And every other form of Abuse. Free thought Married with respect and tolerance To our fellow men And women. World Peace only comes free When the people are free too. Freedom of the individual Based on mutual respect And better still On Love. Paul Butters

43

My name is Sabina Low (Green) and I survived the Holocaust. I was born on March 21, 1922 in Ulanow, Poland. I lived a pretty normal life for my first 10 years. I was one of four kids in a Jewish family. Then after I turned 11, kids at school started to avoid me, my friends would no longer speak to me. They weren't allowed. I remember crying about it to my mother and her comforting me, reassuring things were alright. I stayed through school without a friend for the next 6 years... And then war broke out on September 1, 1939. We could hear our Jewish community scream every night as Poles entered their homes and took what they wanted. 1941, Germany invaded the USSR and occupied Ulanow. 1942, there was gunfire heard near the town. I wandered to my Uncle's house which was also nearby, curious to know what was going on. I reached the house but it had been broken into. I searched all inside and then finally checked the back. There my uncle lied on the ground shot and his stomach tore open...I thought he was gone, but he was alive. I rushed inside to find something to cover him with and found a pillow. When I picked it up, something heavy fell out. It was a dead child, my cousin. I rushed back outside to cover my uncle and the last words he spoke were, "I pray that you'll survive". Later, I was aided with false papers and fled to Stryj, and I remained there until the Soviet army liberated the area in 1944. Then moved to Israel in 1957 and came to the United States in 1960. I may have survived, but I have not forgotten. I relive my past every single day. I remember, but will you?

0

Nov 24, 2013

Nov 24, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC

erin-taylor-1

I Remember

My name is Sabina Low (Green) and I survived the Holocaust. I was born on March 21, 1922 in Ulanow, Poland. I lived a pretty normal life for my first 10 years. I was one of four kids in a Jewish family. Then after I turned 11, kids at school started to avoid me, my friends would no longer speak to me. They weren't allowed. I remember crying about it to my mother and her comforting me, reassuring things were alright. I stayed through school without a friend for the next 6 years... And then war broke out on September 1, 1939. We could hear our Jewish community scream every night as Poles entered their homes and took what they wanted. 1941, Germany invaded the USSR and occupied Ulanow. 1942, there was gunfire heard near the town. I wandered to my Uncle's house which was also nearby, curious to know what was going on. I reached the house but it had been broken into. I searched all inside and then finally checked the back. There my uncle lied on the ground shot and his stomach tore open...I thought he was gone, but he was alive. I rushed inside to find something to cover him with and found a pillow. When I picked it up, something heavy fell out. It was a dead child, my cousin. I rushed back outside to cover my uncle and the last words he spoke were, "I pray that you'll survive". Later, I was aided with false papers and fled to Stryj, and I remained there until the Soviet army liberated the area in 1944. Then moved to Israel in 1957 and came to the United States in 1960. I may have survived, but I have not forgotten. I relive my past every single day. I remember, but will you?

20

I didn't sleep last night Tossing and turning from another body count driven by a terrorist organization with no true goal then to cause mayhem God take me back to the USSR The statues of blue collared workers in the streets It wouldn't matter if you were a carpenter, a doctor, or a farmer. You were all on the same train heading to your families at the end of the day. Take me back to the time people didn't profit off the water sold to the thirsty Take me back to the day when people didn't drive a dollar from the sicks oxygen By god take me to when a potato farmer wasn't spending more for his dirt then he was getting in return for his natural resources I am ****** off. The generation we are growing up in is being coddled. Our hands don't need to be held because we are forming our own opinions that have been foreign to you. We believe in what happened behind your door is your business. Because love is love and we are all in this world together Your generation has not always picked the best leader. This time isn't seeming any different. How can we appoint a man that isn't confident enough to show his bald spot and is forced to wear a toupee. Well let me tell you something. America is bald. And there is no toupee to cover up are **** ups We are not a broken generation we are just being shadowed by forefathers that set guidelines for a corrupt corporate government. Sit the **** down and give us our voice back Or we will pack up. And go back to the USSR God please take me back to the USSR

0

Jun 26, 2016

Jun 26, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC

triston-wareing

Back to the U.S.S.R by the Beatles

I didn't sleep last night Tossing and turning from another body count driven by a terrorist organization with no true goal then to cause mayhem God take me back to the USSR The statues of blue collared workers in the streets It wouldn't matter if you were a carpenter, a doctor, or a farmer. You were all on the same train heading to your families at the end of the day. Take me back to the time people didn't profit off the water sold to the thirsty Take me back to the day when people didn't drive a dollar from the sicks oxygen By god take me to when a potato farmer wasn't spending more for his dirt then he was getting in return for his natural resources I am ****** off. The generation we are growing up in is being coddled. Our hands don't need to be held because we are forming our own opinions that have been foreign to you. We believe in what happened behind your door is your business. Because love is love and we are all in this world together Your generation has not always picked the best leader. This time isn't seeming any different. How can we appoint a man that isn't confident enough to show his bald spot and is forced to wear a toupee. Well let me tell you something. America is bald. And there is no toupee to cover up are **** ups We are not a broken generation we are just being shadowed by forefathers that set guidelines for a corrupt corporate government. Sit the **** down and give us our voice back Or we will pack up. And go back to the USSR God please take me back to the USSR

25

I still have the USSR on the globe in my room. Remember that time when it fell on you? And you skirted away like it was a bomb? I hope it didn't scare you. I didn't mean for it to drop on you. I still have the blue nail polish on my toenails. It doesn't have anything to do with you. At least not objectively, you know? You probably don't since you are a dog. And also because you are dead. I keep it on because it was there when you were here. And now you are gone. Which is ok. Not bad. Because I still have the USSR on my globe.

0

Jul 24, 2017

Jul 24, 2017 at 12:40 PM UTC

charmingblather

the ussr has blue toenails.

I still have the USSR on the globe in my room. Remember that time when it fell on you? And you skirted away like it was a bomb? I hope it didn't scare you. I didn't mean for it to drop on you. I still have the blue nail polish on my toenails. It doesn't have anything to do with you. At least not objectively, you know? You probably don't since you are a dog. And also because you are dead. I keep it on because it was there when you were here. And now you are gone. Which is ok. Not bad. Because I still have the USSR on my globe.

17

Images ran wild, they boiled the water, Like a train running off the track They trickled down, metaphors poured out The world, million voices, reverberated Buzz-buzz-buzz, inside my head. I was alone in that room With panic attacks, lust and voices- That slipped in through my half-window. I broke the mirror, the brutal paparazzo Who printed pictures of my many facades I looked at him and grinned, Clink-clink-clink they smiled once- Dancing with wine glasses and alcoholics. I walked, walked fast and twirled- Like a tornado inside my cube People spoke outside-life tales, notebooks, Their late night phone calls and fine men. The world didn’t bother to open the door, Tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock the clock yawned. I sat on the floor and opened my pen, It vomited blue letters on the yellow paper- The customary dilemmas, past and blunders But something was new, a story. I looked for The English Patient, the nurse And his burnt skin I misplaced They did not appear, I lost hope. Gur-Gur-Gur, I snorted like a mad cat Misdirected to an old jute sack. I climbed up to my bed, hid under the rotten- Blanket and closed my eyes, the images ran, Ran away from me, climbed the hardwood staircase And fell down, I broke my knee. I opened the books- USSR, Pasha, Buddhism, Laughed loud like an unbalanced bloke, Tore them apart into pieces and pieces, Hush-Hush-Hush, my yellow monkey warned And I played with him “hush-hush-hush”. I sat next to my half-window The pseudo city, dozy walls and the distressed- Street light. Out of track. Images flashed again- chewing gums, pink house, The anonymous Christmas gift, malnutrition And the hibiscus my mother planted, “Incey Wincey Spider- Incey Wincey Spider” I sang all day looping around a pole. I sneaked down to the floor and dreamt Eyes wide open, a black and white old film. There was no exile, no god and his sins No wafers and secret lessons upstairs. Only the sea, popomatic, DD evenings Cassettes and a rocking bamboo chair Aw uck- aw uck- aw- uck , the seagulls squawked, I slept.

0

Sep 3, 2015

Sep 3, 2015 at 10:55 AM UTC

Gaye

The Pink House

Images ran wild, they boiled the water, Like a train running off the track They trickled down, metaphors poured out The world, million voices, reverberated Buzz-buzz-buzz, inside my head. I was alone in that room With panic attacks, lust and voices- That slipped in through my half-window. I broke the mirror, the brutal paparazzo Who printed pictures of my many facades I looked at him and grinned, Clink-clink-clink they smiled once- Dancing with wine glasses and alcoholics. I walked, walked fast and twirled- Like a tornado inside my cube People spoke outside-life tales, notebooks, Their late night phone calls and fine men. The world didn’t bother to open the door, Tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock the clock yawned. I sat on the floor and opened my pen, It vomited blue letters on the yellow paper- The customary dilemmas, past and blunders But something was new, a story. I looked for The English Patient, the nurse And his burnt skin I misplaced They did not appear, I lost hope. Gur-Gur-Gur, I snorted like a mad cat Misdirected to an old jute sack. I climbed up to my bed, hid under the rotten- Blanket and closed my eyes, the images ran, Ran away from me, climbed the hardwood staircase And fell down, I broke my knee. I opened the books- USSR, Pasha, Buddhism, Laughed loud like an unbalanced bloke, Tore them apart into pieces and pieces, Hush-Hush-Hush, my yellow monkey warned And I played with him “hush-hush-hush”. I sat next to my half-window The pseudo city, dozy walls and the distressed- Street light. Out of track. Images flashed again- chewing gums, pink house, The anonymous Christmas gift, malnutrition And the hibiscus my mother planted, “Incey Wincey Spider- Incey Wincey Spider” I sang all day looping around a pole. I sneaked down to the floor and dreamt Eyes wide open, a black and white old film. There was no exile, no god and his sins No wafers and secret lessons upstairs. Only the sea, popomatic, DD evenings Cassettes and a rocking bamboo chair Aw uck- aw uck- aw- uck , the seagulls squawked, I slept.

53

Ordinary Valaam nursing home For the good and the poor but not for saints. There are a lot of crowded wards home, For old people with neither arms nor legs. Here the nurses can’t keep track of everything— That’s why there are always stench and doom here, Everybody has a look depth carrying In which is visible renunciation mere. Here lived the hero of the USSR. Wounded in battle under Krasnodar. Like everyone else, a Soviet officer, Just cynically called “a samovar”. He was never discouraged for everyone— He joked of everything and laughed heartily, He gave useful advices to everyone, And he only smiled at rudeness daily. They took veterans “out for a walk”, they Attached the veterans to fir trees on sackcloth, In the evening old men were removed from fir trees , they Had to sleep. Was forgotten the hero’s Life. He didn’t die from multiple wounds, He died quietly, without a cry or a sigh. Died here so, having frozen veterans. Together with them died the epoch, great and high. {2020} СМЕРТЬ ГЕРОЯ Обычный валаамский интернат – Не для святых, но сирых и убогих. Здесь много переполненных палат Для стриков безруких и безногих. Сиделки тут за всем не уследят – А потому здесь смрад и обречённость. У каждого - глубокий очень взгляд, Видна в котором только отрешённость. Тут жил один герой СССР , Израненный в бою под Краснодаром. Подобно всем, советский офицер Цинично назывался «самоваром». Он никогда для всех не унывал – Шутил про всё и искренне смеялся. Советы всем полезные давал. В ответ на грубость – только улыбался. Однажды «выводили» всех «гулять» - На мешковинах к елям прицепили. И к вечеру с деревьев сняли - спать. А про героя начисто забыли! Он умер не от множественных ран, По-тихому – без крика или вздоха. Вот так ушёл, замёрзнув, ветеран. И с ним ушла великая эпоха! {25.02.2020} Translator - I. Toporov

0

May 8, 2020

May 8, 2020 at 6:51 AM UTC

Vladimir_Lionter

DEATH OF A HERO

Ordinary Valaam nursing home For the good and the poor but not for saints. There are a lot of crowded wards home, For old people with neither arms nor legs. Here the nurses can’t keep track of everything— That’s why there are always stench and doom here, Everybody has a look depth carrying In which is visible renunciation mere. Here lived the hero of the USSR. Wounded in battle under Krasnodar. Like everyone else, a Soviet officer, Just cynically called “a samovar”. He was never discouraged for everyone— He joked of everything and laughed heartily, He gave useful advices to everyone, And he only smiled at rudeness daily. They took veterans “out for a walk”, they Attached the veterans to fir trees on sackcloth, In the evening old men were removed from fir trees , they Had to sleep. Was forgotten the hero’s Life. He didn’t die from multiple wounds, He died quietly, without a cry or a sigh. Died here so, having frozen veterans. Together with them died the epoch, great and high. {2020} СМЕРТЬ ГЕРОЯ Обычный валаамский интернат – Не для святых, но сирых и убогих. Здесь много переполненных палат Для стриков безруких и безногих. Сиделки тут за всем не уследят – А потому здесь смрад и обречённость. У каждого - глубокий очень взгляд, Видна в котором только отрешённость. Тут жил один герой СССР , Израненный в бою под Краснодаром. Подобно всем, советский офицер Цинично назывался «самоваром». Он никогда для всех не унывал – Шутил про всё и искренне смеялся. Советы всем полезные давал. В ответ на грубость – только улыбался. Однажды «выводили» всех «гулять» - На мешковинах к елям прицепили. И к вечеру с деревьев сняли - спать. А про героя начисто забыли! Он умер не от множественных ран, По-тихому – без крика или вздоха. Вот так ушёл, замёрзнув, ветеран. И с ним ушла великая эпоха! {25.02.2020} Translator - I. Toporov

52

I sit here silently listen to music and think is my thoughts while they float around allowed I see myself as a different person I hear the sounds around me take the lyrics in makes no difference music's just freeform expression of ones and just and demons I go to school and go to college I gained knowledge there is no difference in the way I walk around these holes the emptiness I walk I see the darkness the tide ebbs and flows the ocean goes home seem to float away faces in the crowd I talk but no solace is found allowed I read my soul as if it were a blank page I see nothing nothing but pain disdain and discord I put the record on that block I see nothing shock of pain there's no freedom in this world left is there nobody here that actually cares the hear someone share their words my feelings written down on paper is there no one that can come take you away from here do you weigh your mind body and soul I wear my heart on the sleeve setting in cold or nothing to behold I read this poem aloud and then I walk through a desolate crowd if there is no one watching sitting there and watch ruins of cities wants forgotten I look at prep yet and I look at different cities around the world that look at Ohio Troy I love you get Connecticut and I look at the town I live in Norwich all the Forgotten buildings once burned unseen I mean all these towns are we forgotten all these places around the world the Berlin Wall USSR Soviet Union's all the time nothing to see nothing I am too young to know this but for what our society does to are young lead them astray to lead their pain away for nothing good can stay everything gold is nothing to hold for we are all better left unseen forever

0

May 10, 2015

May 10, 2015 at 10:53 PM UTC

daniel-falvey

my life in read aloud

I sit here silently listen to music and think is my thoughts while they float around allowed I see myself as a different person I hear the sounds around me take the lyrics in makes no difference music's just freeform expression of ones and just and demons I go to school and go to college I gained knowledge there is no difference in the way I walk around these holes the emptiness I walk I see the darkness the tide ebbs and flows the ocean goes home seem to float away faces in the crowd I talk but no solace is found allowed I read my soul as if it were a blank page I see nothing nothing but pain disdain and discord I put the record on that block I see nothing shock of pain there's no freedom in this world left is there nobody here that actually cares the hear someone share their words my feelings written down on paper is there no one that can come take you away from here do you weigh your mind body and soul I wear my heart on the sleeve setting in cold or nothing to behold I read this poem aloud and then I walk through a desolate crowd if there is no one watching sitting there and watch ruins of cities wants forgotten I look at prep yet and I look at different cities around the world that look at Ohio Troy I love you get Connecticut and I look at the town I live in Norwich all the Forgotten buildings once burned unseen I mean all these towns are we forgotten all these places around the world the Berlin Wall USSR Soviet Union's all the time nothing to see nothing I am too young to know this but for what our society does to are young lead them astray to lead their pain away for nothing good can stay everything gold is nothing to hold for we are all better left unseen forever

1

Standard behaviour from the Russians. Obliteration by sheer numbers and force. 190,000 troops on Ukraine's border, now forging their way into the pristine land of their cousins. Shall be interesting to see their tactics, Russians were never good at improvising, Slavishly taking their orders from the war room, those old Generals who fought long ago in Afghanistan and perhaps joined the action in the Chechen affair, both, of which, ended in ignominious withdrawal by the Soviet Union. Putin's forces have never been encouraged to think for themselves, never encouraged to initiate. The leaders always suspicious of delegating authority. The lesser commanders will not assume responsibility. All decisions will come from the war room. This is the Russian way. Commit the cannon fodder, obliterate by sheer numbers. Stalin did it, now Putin is taking up the chalice. Under the pretext of "Peacekeeping forces". Putin won't stop at the Dneiper river, he wants the whole country, he wants the vast wheatfields and the mineral wealth. He wants, what he regards as his entitlement, that which used to be a vassal part of the old USSR. So far, the response from NATO has been weak. The USA, war weary from Vietnam and Afghanistan, wants no part of the action. Token sanctions and a dithering resonation from old Joe show little resolve there. Boris Johnson, who needs an injection of popularity after his Covid indiscretions, is at least broadcasting belligerence to the Russian invaders and is following up by sending advanced weaponry and advisors to an embattled Ukraine. Broadly the world is sitting on the fence, muttering outrage and wringing the hands. Putin appears to have taken their measure well. M. 25 Feb 2022

0

Feb 24, 2022

Feb 24, 2022 at 3:16 PM UTC

marshal-gebbie

Cry for a Crippling of Hope

Standard behaviour from the Russians. Obliteration by sheer numbers and force. 190,000 troops on Ukraine's border, now forging their way into the pristine land of their cousins. Shall be interesting to see their tactics, Russians were never good at improvising, Slavishly taking their orders from the war room, those old Generals who fought long ago in Afghanistan and perhaps joined the action in the Chechen affair, both, of which, ended in ignominious withdrawal by the Soviet Union. Putin's forces have never been encouraged to think for themselves, never encouraged to initiate. The leaders always suspicious of delegating authority. The lesser commanders will not assume responsibility. All decisions will come from the war room. This is the Russian way. Commit the cannon fodder, obliterate by sheer numbers. Stalin did it, now Putin is taking up the chalice. Under the pretext of "Peacekeeping forces". Putin won't stop at the Dneiper river, he wants the whole country, he wants the vast wheatfields and the mineral wealth. He wants, what he regards as his entitlement, that which used to be a vassal part of the old USSR. So far, the response from NATO has been weak. The USA, war weary from Vietnam and Afghanistan, wants no part of the action. Token sanctions and a dithering resonation from old Joe show little resolve there. Boris Johnson, who needs an injection of popularity after his Covid indiscretions, is at least broadcasting belligerence to the Russian invaders and is following up by sending advanced weaponry and advisors to an embattled Ukraine. Broadly the world is sitting on the fence, muttering outrage and wringing the hands. Putin appears to have taken their measure well. M. 25 Feb 2022

8

That’s tough Day Tripper Losing your Ticket to Ride Now we have to take The Long Winding Road To Get Back to were you belong ~ Come on, Come on No, I don’t want to Hold Your Hand So you had A Hard Days Night You’re a bit Here There and Everywhere That was Yesterday, get over it ~ Here we are, Penny Lane Hi Michelle, She’s Leaving Home Wants to be A Paperback Writer Yep; You’re Going to Lose That Girl ~ Eleanor Rigby she’s gone too Where? Oh, somewhere Back in the USSR HI! Lovely Rita. Ah, you know I gave her All My Loving Even let her Drive my Car ~ Hey Jude we’re home Strawberry Fields Forever eh? You know Something You’re going Nowhere Man But I am, Hello Goodbye.

0

Jan 27, 2018

Jan 27, 2018 at 9:01 AM UTC

john-lock

A Beatle down my Pants.

That’s tough Day Tripper Losing your Ticket to Ride Now we have to take The Long Winding Road To Get Back to were you belong ~ Come on, Come on No, I don’t want to Hold Your Hand So you had A Hard Days Night You’re a bit Here There and Everywhere That was Yesterday, get over it ~ Here we are, Penny Lane Hi Michelle, She’s Leaving Home Wants to be A Paperback Writer Yep; You’re Going to Lose That Girl ~ Eleanor Rigby she’s gone too Where? Oh, somewhere Back in the USSR HI! Lovely Rita. Ah, you know I gave her All My Loving Even let her Drive my Car ~ Hey Jude we’re home Strawberry Fields Forever eh? You know Something You’re going Nowhere Man But I am, Hello Goodbye.

28

He remembered Khrushyov, Brezhnev. He remembered the mighy USSR’s fate. He remembered a lot, understood he a lot. Fidel Castro Rus was so truly great. He wanted to be a powerful dictator, Like Stalin being with a great power. “We can do a lot!” told he friends therefore. He led people to Revolution farther. He could change hundreds, thousands of people’s fates He achieved him great, bright goal. We won’t Exactly forget him, him deeds, him life’s dates, Do lie with peace, Fidel, was great your own lot. {26.11.2016} ФИДЕЛЬ АЛЕХАНДРО КАСТРО РУС (13.08.1926 – 25.11.2016) Хрущёва он помнил и Брежнева помнил, Он помнил могучий Советский Союз! Он многое помнил и многое понял – Таким выдающимся был Кастро Рус! Хотел быть на Сталина очень похожим – Диктатором сильным с великой страной! Друзьям говорил он: «Мы многое можем!» И вёл к Революции всех за собой! Он смог изменить сотни, тысячи судеб – Достиг он великую, светлую цель! Мы точно его никогда не забудем – Покойся же с миром великий Фидель! {26.11.2016} Translator - I. Toporov

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May 15, 2020

May 15, 2020 at 3:13 PM UTC

Vladimir_Lionter

FIDEL CASTRO RUS (13.08.1926 – 25.11.2016)

He remembered Khrushyov, Brezhnev. He remembered the mighy USSR’s fate. He remembered a lot, understood he a lot. Fidel Castro Rus was so truly great. He wanted to be a powerful dictator, Like Stalin being with a great power. “We can do a lot!” told he friends therefore. He led people to Revolution farther. He could change hundreds, thousands of people’s fates He achieved him great, bright goal. We won’t Exactly forget him, him deeds, him life’s dates, Do lie with peace, Fidel, was great your own lot. {26.11.2016} ФИДЕЛЬ АЛЕХАНДРО КАСТРО РУС (13.08.1926 – 25.11.2016) Хрущёва он помнил и Брежнева помнил, Он помнил могучий Советский Союз! Он многое помнил и многое понял – Таким выдающимся был Кастро Рус! Хотел быть на Сталина очень похожим – Диктатором сильным с великой страной! Друзьям говорил он: «Мы многое можем!» И вёл к Революции всех за собой! Он смог изменить сотни, тысячи судеб – Достиг он великую, светлую цель! Мы точно его никогда не забудем – Покойся же с миром великий Фидель! {26.11.2016} Translator - I. Toporov

30

After Leonard wiped out half of New York's Little Italy, the band was asked to leave the country. "Oni ne dolzhny posylat' tak mnogo srazu. Eto obleg chayet zadachu. Vsev Amerike udobno, bez truda."* The band broke out in an acapella 'Back in the USSR', & Leonard lit a cigar. 'Are you with the Uks? the slight girl suddenly at his side inquired ... he heard her voice through the ruckus. That told him she was someone special. When the band looked around again, he was gone.

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Dec 3, 2018

Dec 3, 2018 at 2:49 PM UTC

johnny-noiπ

I❤Killers

After Leonard wiped out half of New York's Little Italy, the band was asked to leave the country. "Oni ne dolzhny posylat' tak mnogo srazu. Eto obleg chayet zadachu. Vsev Amerike udobno, bez truda."* The band broke out in an acapella 'Back in the USSR', & Leonard lit a cigar. 'Are you with the Uks? the slight girl suddenly at his side inquired ... he heard her voice through the ruckus. That told him she was someone special. When the band looked around again, he was gone.

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