Books · Society · Humour
Alexander Galich in “Night Watch” on a procession of monuments and a bronze generalissimo
When the festivities die down in the city, When sinners sleep and the righteous too, The state storerooms Quietly let the monuments slip away. Hundreds of thousands (all of them alike) Go along the moonlit path, And chance passers-by Tumble head over heels into the "emergency ambulance"