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Friends of my age,
My happy generation,
We strode, pained-pleased,
Through the wreckage of whole worlds.
Before the living and the dead
fell on our portion
Inherited old skins
of ourselves—and…
Stalinstan,
Stalinstan,
Who is present and on hand
From the Party,
From the Union?
Who was on his way
Somewhere else today,
When a chain of men caught him
And then brought him
To…