I saw the posters popping up around the city,
Pale blue and washed-out red.
I went down to the arena, pushing through,
Hoping I’d run into you.
Sweet freshly-scrubbed smell of the crowd,
All the excitement in their eyes.
We were all made young when he stepped onto the stage,
Like an animal escaping from his cage.
Raise the trumpet,
Sound the drum.
He whom the prophets spoke of long ago has come.
All of us, two days to leave when it was over,
Dawdled by the vendors for a minute,
Gathered underneath a summer sky,
I was hoping you’d pass by.
But though I didn’t see you that day, or the next,
I’m pretty sure that you were there,
Making your way among the young and happy horde,
Headed down to your reward.
Raise the trumpet,
Sound the drum,
He whom the prophets spoke of long ago has come
|
Switch to Russian 
