Your woods are full of sordid foes.
One has to howl among the beasts.
The only solace is some witch,
But they are poisonous, hell's wheels!
To save some simple-hearted fool
You get a spit at palm as thanks.
All stakes are fake, all pays are doomed.
Your only fair companion's Death.
My castles are full of stale worth.
The merry faeries – dressed down.
The tiger chalks on dust in booth.
Where are my wings? Ah, what a scum!
The rules are mean and angry dwarves
Watch strictly over etiquette:
At two o'clock we feed the slum,
My lonely party is at eight.
How could we meet then if we're trapped
Each in our own mythic shell?
Illusion worlds do not collide.
We have to wake up. Our Selves.
[15 November 2011]
Переводная версия моего собственного стиха http://stihi.ru/2011/11/15/6086