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I was bored at night, so I came up with this.
The Tale of the Cucumber of Omnipotence and the Back of the Head of Desires.
Under the black sludge
Pinned down by a book
About the faces of sheep
Lay a Cucumber.
He was bored;
His brain was muddled.
But he didn't despair;
He dreamed of good things.
"When," he thought, "will come
That terrible, fierce, evil pilot
With an unimaginably lovely forehead,
But even more so, a back of the head,
That is thickly overgrown with tusks,
And in its folds, wildly accumulates soap.
He is wise and knowledgeable, kind, beautiful,
And he is not at all frightening,
As it seems at first glance
To inexperienced little ones and nannies,
To telegrams, mouths, stern uncles
And ponies with covered manes,
Who have been searching for their equals for a long time."
Once, on a cloudy morning,
When a moose was born from the depths
Of the shadow that guarded the threshold,
The Back of the Head arrived, ate a pie,
The second, the fourth, wiped his mouth.
To the Cucumber: "Where is the compote?"
He replies that it is in vain
He seeks such a wonderful compote,
That it would be better if he raised his gaze,
So that he would answer questions,
While his years are still good.
"Behold my fiery fist!"
The Back of the Head says proudly to him.
The geese sang a song loudly;
The carpenter sneezed loudly, having sharpened himself with a textbook
And the novices of the Willow in Swaddling Clothes
Began to kick and stomp their feet,
And shake their heads
They did not forget the fences of the Wind.
"Can I make a wish?"
The Cucumber politely asked.
As if in an ancient throne room
The Back of the Head proclaimed to him
An answer, not embarrassed by the honor
Of being the first among the unwashed backs.
"Make a wish, but without flattery
Tell me about the Carbine,
Whose response the rams are waiting for."
"Ah, is that so?!", exclaimed the vegetable, "Yes?!
With black and crimson paint
I had to paint my cat,
So that he would boldly pull down the curtains,
And, not fearing the rye's anger,
He would rush into the thick of lips and salt,
Count the lost shares
Of those straws that the livestock gave me,
Which sweetly protected
Me from the attack
Of shaggy and plaguey gates!
Understand, I am not just a Cucumber!
I have lost a hundred of my
Bumps! Yes, and here,
I see that that crown
Will adorn the Ice of Trust, and you
Have the audacity to shave a carrot,
Sleep on the beach, eat straw,
A saggy mattress, that's who you are!
I am the Cucumber of Omnipotence! Do not dare
To talk to me about mundane things!
You want dust? I will watch!
I will not allow you to cut off the towel!"
Then the Back of the Head said to him,
That mushrooms are already growing in the bathroom,
Then the soup in the castle will cool down,
There will be no more poverty,
That the Cucumber was greatly deceived,
That his vile sense of smell failed him,
That the compass that led him here
Was abundantly covered with sauce.
The Cucumber and the Back of the Head said goodbye
Disappointed. And a three-legged
Slihvyu is enough to make a deserted
Lamp-shaped octopus.
Arandor
MedjersoN_HP
