Ride on Carnival Monday
by Alexei Steipanovitch Stepanov (1910)
The sky has died
Its skin turned grey
It lost its light
But when they raced
Those children smiled
So ride on, Carnival Monday
Snow choked down the trees
Firewood became their name
Leaves now a memory
Held on the wicker sleigh
With laughing, glowing glee
So ride on, Carnival Monday
Lanterns get so lonesome
In their banished sentry state
They burn isolation
Until they smell a mate:
The glamour of blood’s warmth
Ride on, Carnival Monday
Written 28/05/2025