Once in the old year
The ruler lived (not so bold),
The people were called pale Zelya.
And there came to him the trouble.
The rural band of gangsters,
They were called in the press “the patriots”,
Got Selu to hiccups –
Of their nasty swearing,
From their threats and humiliation
The ruler with a sense of defeat
Eyes with the dawn opened
And with it the same night anxious.
– Yes, it’s a downright scandal!
Yes, it’s just impossible! –
Cried once Zelin yard.
– The whole of Europe, damn shame!
This boss is not to face.
And decided – to the sage
And the magician of the power
Shall Zelya, do not dissemble,
Go and ask for advice.
Let the means give him from harm.
And he went. And wise old man
Magic chewed the cracker,
In response to complaints said:
– You have to cut off the flow
Dough, current freaks.
It is so arranged nature,
What “patriot” without the bubble
His struggle really is not sweet.
You make a thin wallet –
Patriotism gone, like smoke,
Washed clean power, will do away with the flour,
And you will become the king no nonsense,
When will be able to cut off the hand
It feeds brazen Selyukov.
– Thank you, ‘ said Zelya,
Going to leave soon,
But, look downcast, at the door
He added: – Really, really…
And suddenly began to cry from sadness,
And said goodbye with a strange phrase:
“And if the government and the thugs
We eat with one hand?”
Artist Ilya GELD