He liked his Sunday afternoons, <br />only the privileged deserved <br />the sanctuary of a datsha <br />out in its splendid isolation. <br /> <br />Hot lava rocks, reflecting heat <br />of Northern Hemlock panels, grooved, <br />and twigs of birch, so tightly bundled <br />to beat the sweating hide, once in a while. <br /> <br />A splash of watery extract of Georgian Pine <br />onto the rocks, alerting with a rush <br />the breathing paths of those who rest, <br />while busy servants bring new buckets, <br />full of ice, and well-chilled steins with stems <br />to complement the elixir of life and limb. <br /> <br />Which is, in parts like these, called 'little water', <br />or Vodka, just to let you know the truth. <br />A burning skin, dilation at extreme <br />will still accommodate an afternoon of drink. <br />It is the Russian way to recharge batteries, <br />and only the elite is thus rewarded.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/russian-recreation/
