Igor in the town of S,
on the Russian black soil steppe,
was a contented man,
he had steady work
a small flat
and had for five years been saving to buy a Lada car
and since he could only compare himself with his neighbours
thought that he was well off.
But lately there had been a political change in the air
that both worried and exited him,
something about free trade and shops full of fancy goods,
the freedom to speak his mind
and to travel,
but where?
He went on holiday every year at his parents house in the village of B.
Freedom?
For him meant the right to work
and he had that.
By the railway station in the town of S, Igor stands
he has now the liberty to sell his Lada car
and other possessions bought
when life was kind to a working man.