The geography of a valiant journey: A further run from the Nazis

By Borys Zinger

It’s very far away,
The city of Krasnodar
(The north Caucasus)
Try to get there by bus–ha,–ha-,-ha!
Marshal Budyonny on the sidewalk,
From the Crimea lost his way,
Or went astray.
It means that things are in disarray.
I’m on my way to Sochie Town.

From there I must further run
To the capital of Georgia, Tibilisi,
The next stop on the border of Afganistan,
To pluck cotton from the bush,
And as a reward you get malaria.
And that makes me feel abashed.
Dirty and hungry, no way to use a laundry.

Close to the Caspian Sea,
I aim for the city of Baku —
Now well, well who can tell?
I crossed the Caspian Sea,
I needn’t use a permit,
To the port of Krasnowodzk,
Far from the city of Plotzk

From that extent
A prospect, Uzbek capital, Tashkent,
With no means and no capital,
With no end in sight I ‘m bound
To reach the city of Samarkand.

As the end of the story isn’t near,
I stop my valiant journey here.