- You know, I think Ukrainian is more appropriate here because it is a language of a song. The book is like a song, really. Our folks here, those drunken guys at the bar and all those railway folks around- they are all Ukrainians, right. Can you imagine them being Martians?
We looked around as if we were there for the first time. Smoke filled the hall and it seemed even darker from the chandelier up there. We did not see the people, only shadows in the fog and heard the train signals as if those were the rockets called to launch. Someone was playing an accordion on the platform and the words of the song seemed to float around us, so one --by-one we started to murmur it in Ukrainian:
- So, let's sing, folks, we go for good into the morning fog tomorrow..
"Martians, they sang too," I said. "We are all Martians."