I AM HATED BY EVERY ANTI-SEMITE AS A JEW.

And for that, I am a true Russian.

That's from "Babi Yar," by the recently deceased Yevgeny Yevtushenko.

His poetry provided text for Shostakovich's Thirteenth Symphony.

A passage from his "Stalin's Ghost" prefaces Anatole Shub's An Empire Loses Hope: The Return of Stalin's Ghost.

Slowly the coffin floated, grazing the fized bayonets.
He also was mute- his embalmed fists,

just pretending to be dead, he watched from inside.

Later in life, he was ambivalent about the fate of the Soviet Union, and enjoyed a country house in Oklahoma.

There is nobody who loves a poet like a Russian.