I’m moving to Russia to sing Putin’s praises.
I’ll live on the steppes where wherever one gazes
One sees far horizons, her vast open spaces,
Her beauty, her bounty. I’ll travel to places
Where never again will I hear folk complaining
Whenever from dull skies it’s snowing or raining.
I’ll go to the cities and see all their wonders,
And study the past and the Soviet blunders.
I’ll write formal verses that praise Vladimir,
And hope that he’ll have me around for a beer.
– D.N. O’Brien