Nabokov on the balalaika

1919 ended, fight or flight, and they fled, when it was white vs. red
Now I guess when he’s stressed at night he might turn in bed
After writing of tyrants he’d invite to behead
Cause he’d read of frostbite mixed with lead, all the time underfed,
Butter knives but no bread, a country resigned to a life of bloodshed,
Wonder why we aren’t led by vikings instead
Of these vipers with eyes worse than Ivan the Dread
Outsider Nabokov knew our plight when he said
Our sight stays blinded until lightning will strike and the right person’s dead

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