[This is a post on Facebook, and this, a block post in the East]

by Aleksandr Kabanov

This is a post on Facebook, and this, a block post in the East,
our losses: the five banned, six shipped back “in zinc coffins,”
the wounded, everyone: the Ukes, the Ruskis, Merkel, verses.
God himself had been mined somewhere on lofty heights.

This summer, without bulletproof vest, in September, no helmet,
the trolling “Kuban” battalion against our couch centurions;
I’ll make you a gift: a camouflage case for your tablet;
time is earwax, peddled in alleyways, under the table.

So when all is said and done, what did I do for this baby:
Stroked her nipples with a cursor, tickled her underarms?
‘Cause she so wanted to get married, and now in revenge,
she’ll suck off the recruiter and bring me my draft notice.

May the blessed relics rest in peace: her Lacoste t-shirt,
the high-speed Wi-Fi, all your likes and statuses reposted,
for the heroes never die. The heroes never die, this,
the very first roadblock at the besieged towers of Troy.

Translated from the Russian by Alex Cigale

Share via
Copy link
Powered by Social Snap