CRIMEAN NIGHTS
[…]
Ah, those nights! Ah, those Crimean nights! Who dreamt them up? And why are they so blue, so clear? Why are they so intoxicating?
Ah, those nights! Ah, those Crimean nights!
Just look what they are doing to the people!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
“Hey, girls! Lonely there tonight?”
“Get lost, lamebrains!”
… And five minutes later, just five minutes of this magical Crimean night, and the girl’s head is resting against the lamebrain’s chest…
Soft voices… Hamstrings trembling… Heart thumping… Blood boiling…
Ah, those nights! Ah, those Crimean nights!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And what sounds you emit, Crimean nights! What fragrances! What stealthy rustling! And those songs of yours! Those magical southern songs!
Eh,
