Ple-Sen
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Goodness must be with fists,
With a tail and sharp horns,
With hooves and a beard.
Covered with prickly fur,
Breathing fire, kicking with its hooves,
It will come for you!
You hear it – it’s coming,
Poison drips from its fangs onto the ground,
Its tail angrily lashes against its sides.
Goodness, howling menacingly,
Touching the clouds with its horns,
Is creeping closer to us!
And to you, my capricious reader,
Bearer of the spirit of humanism,
I wish you goodness – and may
When you meet it, you remember my poem,
And then, in the dead of night,
A terrible cry will pierce the silence: “Help!”
And then – the sound of chewing and crunching…
(c) Dmitry Bagretsov
With a tail and sharp horns,
With hooves and a beard.
Covered with prickly fur,
Breathing fire, kicking with its hooves,
It will come for you!
You hear it – it’s coming,
Poison drips from its fangs onto the ground,
Its tail angrily lashes against its sides.
Goodness, howling menacingly,
Touching the clouds with its horns,
Is creeping closer to us!
And to you, my capricious reader,
Bearer of the spirit of humanism,
I wish you goodness – and may
When you meet it, you remember my poem,
And then, in the dead of night,
A terrible cry will pierce the silence: “Help!”
And then – the sound of chewing and crunching…
(c) Dmitry Bagretsov