Dog Ivan Bunin Dream on, dream on. It's all so cramped and bleak When you are focusing your golden peepers On blizzards in the yard, on snowy flitters, On rumbling, smoking, broomstick poplar trees. You sigh, and then you're curling up to warm My feet----and now you're wondering... We have been Here languishing----we want our scene transformed, Another desert... past the Permic mountains. You will recall things alien to me: The hoary sky, the tundra, ice and teepees All in that freezing, savage way you see. And I will always share with you my thinking: I am a man: like God, I am obliged To yearn for all the countries all the time. -- p2: defenestrate --

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