instead of St. Basil’s like we wanted to
but Moscow or Auschwitz doesn’t matter
as long as i spend my life with you.
It may be short, but we will fight:
our fabled blood runs deep.
we’ll hold each other tightly in this
slaughterhouse for sheep.
“may the children of this union
walk out of here alive”:
i’d be content with that, even if
we both have to die.
but either way, they’ll show their face
and find themselves so strong.
they’ll learn to love their “fatal wrong”
they’ll always fear is flawed.
i hope they’ll fight for what they are
and what is right to do,
and they find someone to love them
half as much as i love you.
our wedding bells may mix with rings
of atom bombs and tears
but i would never trade that moment
for a thousand peaceful years.
so rise, you child of Abraham!
lift up your weary head!
for if they kill our bodies,
our spirits live instead.
and when you’re in that chamber filled
with gas like molten jade,
recount that love is tangible;
my love will never fade.
they cannot take what they can’t see:
love can’t be touched or shot.
inside this hell, hear wedding bells
until we meet with God.
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