Article: Thirty years ago. (poem)

I passed this way thirty years ago. Four days and nights by train... Now it's under sixty hours, eight by plane. Soon Tupolevs will make Moscow-Baku two hours and ten minutes... Thirty years ago songs filled the train--songs like a handkerchief waved at a lover, like a flag leading us on. The same songs of my youth still fill the train. Thirty years ago a Komsomol girl rode the train in a leather jacket and a red scarf, holding a book in her calloused

hands--Mayakovsky. Now a Komsomol girl rides the train in a nylon blouse, returning from the harvest in Kazakhstan, with a book in her calloused

hands-Mayakovsky. I passed this way thirty years ago. ...

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