Summertime on Kamchatka [a saga]

Summertime on Kamchatka

(16 August 1998)

Summertime, and the living is easy,

Fish are jumping, and the berries are ripe.

Oh, the caviar’s rich, and the cook is good looking [vereniki’s cooking]

So hush, little Tanya, don’t you cry.

(17 August 1998)

One of these mornings, they’ll finally make you kasha,

Or maybe blini, with blueberry jam.

Until that morning, you’d better eat your riba,

So hush, little Jody, don’t you cry.

Summertime, and there’s rain on Kamchatka,

Vanya’s complaining, that the grass is too high.

Sasha trips and falls, and Tanya steps in some bearshit,

So hush, little Roma, don’t you cry.

(22 August 1998)

One of these mornings, you’re gonna run out of coffee,

And there’s no sugar, to put in your chai.

And on that morning, they’re going to make you eat nerpa,

So hush, little Tanya, don’t you cry.

Summertime, and the trip’s almost over,

And at the end, is cucumber pie.

Or maybe xleb, and even a banya,

So hush, little Jody, don’t you cry.

(9 August 1999)

Summertime, and there’s bears on Kamchatka,

Salmon are running, to spawn and to die.

Fish are jumping, right into your rotik,

So hush, little mishka, don’t you cry.

One of these evenings, Tanya’s gonna fry ikra,

And when he sees her, Sasha’s ready to die.

And on that evening, Shawn and Crystal are laughing,

So hush, little Sasha, don’t you cry.

(14 August 2000)

Summertime on the Chazhma miasma,

The tide is rising, and the mud is knee-high.

But in nature, there’s no thing as bad weather,

So hush, little Tanya, don’t you cry.

One of these mornings, we’ll have to move the palatkas,

It would be better, if we could just fly.

But if we flew like ducks, then Lonya might shoot us,

So hush, little Edward, don’t you cry.

(30 August 2000)

Summertime doesn’t last on Kamchatka,

The leaves are turning, and the flowers are dry.

Nights are cold, and the days getting shorter,

But hush, little Tanya, don’t you cry.

One of these mornings, there’ll be frost on the berries,

And on that morning, the brucenika are ripe.

Until that morning, you’d better soak in the sunshine,

So hush, little Jody, don’t you cry.

(9 September 2000)

Summertime, and there’s rain on the Storozh,

We don’t know when, the helicopter will fly.

But the peat’s been here, for eight thousand years,

So hush, dear Natasha, don’t you cry.

(25 September 2000) (for Edward)

Summertime on Kamchatka’s a cauldron,

A melting pot, above a hot fire.

And sometimes, the pot will boil over,

So hush, little Jody, don’t you cry.

One of these mornings, there will be an eruption,

Because strong pressure, cannot stay inside

After that morning, the air will be clearer, [there will be a new layer]

So hush, little Edward, don’t you cry.

(25 July 2001)

Summertime in the south of Kamchatka,

There’s so much fog, no sun in the sky.

But there’s tons of food, which we cannot carry,

So hush, two Seryosha’s, don’t you cry.

One of these mornings, you’re gonna have to go bushwhack,

The shrumps are wet, and more than head high;

But Roma wields his axe, as we thrash through the kedrach,

So hush, little Vitya, don’t you cry.

Summertime at the feet of volcanoes,

(And) our partyanki, will never be dry,

Jody flips and falls, and Vanya sits in some bearshit,

So hush, little Sasha, don’t you cry.

(17 August 2001)

Most every morning, you’re going to run into puchka,

To bears it’s tasty, it’s hard to know why,

‘Cuz if it’s sunny, then puchka will bite you,

But hush, dear Maria, don’t you cry.

It’s mid-August, and there’s hardly a fish yet,

And no ripe berries to put in our pie.

To pile on insult, a bear stole our fish net,

But hush, little Vera, don’t you cry.

(15 July 2002) (for Tanya’s 30^th birthday)

Another summer on the coast of Kamchatka,

Tanya’s married now, and happy as pie.

It hardly matters that she’s a year older,

So hush, little Tanya, don’t you cry.

One of these mornings, you’ll be older than thirty,

But friends are older, and they are still spry.

And for your birthday, they will dance you a ballet,

So hush, little Tanya, don’t you cry.

(24 July 2002)

Summertime in the bay of Khodutka,

To the west, the volcanoes are nigh.

Though when you dig a trench, there is nary a tephra,

But hush, little Vera, don’t you cry.

One of these mornings, we’ll finally catch some gorbusha,

Some tasty salmon, which Slava will fry.

Until that morning, you’d better eat your tushonka,

So hush, little Jody, don’t you cry.

(19 August 2003)

Summertime near lagoon Malambayam,

Swarms of mosquitoes are filling the sky

And under birches, the doscht is of bugshit,

But hush, little Katya, don’t you cry.

One of these mornings, Viv’ will burn up her toothbrush,

And on that day, the helicopter will fly,

And before it comes, Kev’ will burn up his sapogee,

But hush, little Jody, don’t you cry.

Summertime in the north of Kamchatka

Ducks are laughing, and I’ll tell you why—

Sasha’s sleeping, and he’s run out of duckshot,

So hush, little utka, don’t you cry.