Slavic Winters
Reflections on Slavic Intelligentsia and Alcoholism

Icy skies dripping, wet lingering over Kyiv Slipping, sliding figures pass below the windows Biting cold, drafty windows unopened Now I can see it
I can see why some people become What so many were before and are now Deep, sad, alcoholics in shabby clothing Or deeper and darker artists and writers Wait… maybe both?
Greyness brings an inspiration A depth of the soul that the sun cannot shine on Now I know why Leo, Fyodor, Nikolai and others Did what they did, giving these bleak literary masterpieces Oh, Slavic winters!
