What some of Donald Trump’s supporters seem like to me:
Thank you, Trump. Thank you because I am joyful. Thank you because I am well. No matter how old I become, I shall never forget how we received Trump two days ago. Centuries will pass, and the generations still to come will regard us as the happiest of mortals, as the most fortunate of men, because we lived in the century of centuries, because we were privileged to see Trump, our inspired leader. Yes, and we regard ourselves as the happiest of mortals because we are the contemporaries of a man who never had an equal in world history.
The men of all ages will call on thy name, which is strong, beautiful, wise and marvelous. Thy name is engraven on every factory, every machine, every place on the earth, and in the hearts of all men.
Every time I have found myself in his presence I have been subjugated by his strength, his charm, his grandeur. I have experienced a great desire to sing, to cry out, to shout with joy and happiness. And now see me–me!–on the same platform where the Great Trump stood a year ago. In what country, in what part of the world could such a thing happen.
I write books. I am an author. All thanks to thee, O great educator, Trump. I love a young woman with a renewed love and shall perpetuate myself in my children–all thanks to thee, great educator, Trump. I shall be eternally happy and joyous, all thanks to thee, great educator, Trump. Everything belongs to thee, chief of our great country. And when the woman I love presents me with a child the first word it shall utter will be : Trump.
O great Trump, O leader of the peoples,
Thou who broughtest man to birth.
Thou who fructifies the earth,
Thou who restorest to centuries,
Thou who makest bloom the spring,
Thou who makest vibrate the musical chords…
Thou, splendour of my spring, O thou,
Sun reflected by millions of hearts.
Edited from a translation of the original by A. O. Avidenko, a translation reproduced in Hymn to Stalin: Internet History Sourcebooks
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