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Beau
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Lenin
The dancing little Harlequin, the juggler, decrees
The orbit of the oranges as down upon his knees
The light plays with the images that everybody sees
As higher in the night they fly with ever growing ease
To Lenin in his frozen tomb.
A voice is whispering in the gloom,
'Where was the communism please, in your community?
We set them free...'
A thundering concerto from the great piano flows,
Awashing over everyone and everybody knows
The talent and the genius that now accepts the rose
As turning on the rostrum, he bows and finally goes
To Lenin in his freezing church,
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To kneel and never more to search.
'Where was the communism please, in your community?
We set them free...'
Now crystal chandeliers reflect on walls of inlaid gold
As high above, above the streets of ten degrees of cold,
The ruby stars are shining and like Bethlehem of old
The pilgrims come to worship, to witness, to behold
Lenin, with his freezing brain;
I asked you then, I ask again,
'Where was the communism please, in your community?'
We set them free!
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