A Russian poet wrote a poem in which “Ukrainian” rhymes with “menagerie”
Russian poet Orlusha (Andrey Orlov), in honor of his birthday, which he celebrates in Crimea, declared that he is Ukrainian and wrote a new poem “Coming Out.”
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Orlov wrote about this on the social network Facebook.
COMING OUT
These lines will be bitter and painful for my mother to read.
Many friends and acquaintances will turn their backs on me.
Those who now call me a national traitor,
They will call me “ukropidor” and “hokhlogomo”.
The residents next door will look at me askance
(However, even now my behavior is strange to them),
But I was not like them, and I remember from childhood
All the words and nicknames that hurt me.
I always liked to dress differently from others,
I wore my hair with Beatles' eyebrow-length bangs,
My red bell-bottoms scraped the pavement,
I could dress up like KISS for a party,
I made a US flag out of stars with Lenin,
Aleshkovsky sang (the one where lesbians get married),
When society sang glory to Brezhnev and the party.
And when the country changes political orientations
When the USSR flag was replaced by another, a mattress one,
I joked: “It’s better to be blue than red!”
We were joking. The wind of freedom won't last long
He ruffled our hair and blew cool air on our bald heads,
Whatever you do and however you live in this world,
It was not written in my country to be free.
The blue and white from the red flag soon faded
The holes were dug like wolves and covered with brushwood on top.
And the “same” rakes are laid out on all the roads.
We are again measuring freedom in kitchens with a glass,
There are only fifteen of us, or maybe half a percent
And the friends whom we trusted immensely yesterday,
They say they love both the climate and the president.
I'm tired of walking to the entrance and being afraid of the dark,
I'm tired of walking across the bridge and waiting to be shot in the back.
Do you want the truth? And I myself want to confess:
I have long considered Ukraine my country!
I'm ready for buckets of shit, spitting and slop,
I gnawed through my cage, left my native menagerie,
I breathe freely, speaking in Russian:
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