How Knownothing wrote poetry

"The Adventures of Knownothing and His Friends"
by Nikolay Nosov,
chapter 4
Translated by Pavel Nichkov
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Chapter four. How Knownothing wrote poetry.

After Knownothing could not manage to become a painter, he decided to become a poet and compose poetry. He had an acquaintance, a poet who lived on the Dandelions Street. His name was Poodet, however, as every poets did, he wanted his name to sound well, and when he started to write poetry, he chose another name, Floweret.
Once Knownothing came to Floweret and said:
- Listen, Floweret, teach me to compose poetry. I want to be a poet like you.
- But do you have any aptitude? –Floweret asked.
- Sure. I am very capable. – Knownothing replied.
- It should be proven. Do you know what rhyme is?
- Rhyme? No, no idea.
- Rhyme means when two words end similarly – Floweret explained. For example, duck - buck, cookie - hooky. Do you see that?
- Yes, I do.
- Well, then make up a rhyme for the word "fresh".
- Fish – Knownothing responded immediately.
- Where do you see any rhyme here: fresh - fish? There is no rhyme here!
- Why do you think so? They both end similarly.
- It is not enough. – Floweret said. – It is needed they to sound similarly, sound well. Listen here: fresh – flesh, house – mouse, boogie-woogie.
- Got, got! – Knownothing exclaimed. - Fresh – flesh, house – mouse, boogie-woogie! Awesome! Ha-ha-ha!
- Well, then make up a rhyme for the word "poetry" – Floweret said.
- Croetry. – Knownothing replied.
- What a croetry? – Floweret gaped at Knownothing, - Is there such a word, I wonder?
- Why do you think not?
- Sure, not. Try once more.
- Ok, then let it be blowetry.
- But what is it? – Floweret wondered again.
- Well, it is when it blows, then "blowetry" happens, - Knownothing explained.
- It can't be true. There is no such a word "blowetry" – Floweret argued. You should choose a real word and not make up your own ones.
- But if I can’t choose a word, what then?
- Then you have no poetic aptitude.
- Then you try to find a rhyme for "poetry" – Knownothing argued.
- Ok. – Floweret agreed.
He stopped in the center of the room, crossed his arms, bowed his head awry and started thinking. Then he raised his head and continued thinking, looking at the ceiling. Then he seized his chin and continued thinking, looking at the floor. After that he started walking to and fro muttering:
- Poetry, boetry, coetry, doetry, moetry, toetry, zoetry… - He was muttering for quite a long while and then said: - Pah! What a stupid word? It is a dull word with no rhyme!
- Now you see? – Knownothing rejoiced. – You give me stupid words which has no rhyme and then you call me untalented!
- Ok, talented, talented, you only leave me alone. – Floweret uttered. – I got headache from all that. Just compose in a way when a sense and rhyming is present, and here you are poetry.
- Is it really as easy? – Knownothing marveled.
- Sure, it is. Most important is to be talented.
Knownothing came home and immediately got down to writing poems. All the day through he walked to and fro round his room, looked at the floor, than at the ceiling, seizing his chin, muttering something continuously.
Eventually, the poetry was done, and he said:
- Listen, brers, what a lovely poetry I penned.
- Well, what is it about, your poetry? – everybody wondered.
I wrote poems about you, - Knownothing said. – Here it is one about Knowall first. Knowall walked along a road and jumped over a nanny-goat.
- What? - Knowall cried amazedly. - When did you see I jumped over a goat?
- You do not understand, it is poetry. It is said simply to make a rhyme that you jumped over a goat – Knownothing explained.
- And are you going, just for a rhyme, tell a lie on me? – Knowall flied into a rage.
- Sure I am! – Knownothing answered. – How can I compose truth? It is completely impossible, truth is just truth.
- Never write your poetry about me anymore or you’ll get in a trouble! Ok, what did you write about the others? – Knowall asked.
- Listen about Bustlerie. – Knownothing said, - Bustlerie was very hungry and he swallowed a cold iron.
- Brers! – Bustlerie screamed, - It is a rubbish! I have never swallowed any cold iron!
- Calm down, - Knownothing objected, - It is said only for the purpose of rhyming, that the iron was cold.
- But I have never swallowed neither cold nor hot iron! – Bustlerie kept screaming.
- I didn’t say you swallowed a hot iron so you may shut up. – Knownothing replied. - Better listen about Perhapsie. Perhapsie has under his pillow a sweet biscuit put away hidden.
Perhapsie immediately went to his bed and looked under the pillow. And he pronounced:
- It is a nonsense! There is no biscuit here.
- You obviously are completely ignorant about poetry, - Knownothing responded. – It is only for the purpose of rhyming said a biscuit is put there, but actually it is not. Now, here you are one more writing about doctor Pillie.
- Brers! – doctor Pillie cried. – Let’s stop this mockery! Or are we going to listen with perfect calm what he is lying about all of us?
- Enough! – everyone shouted. – We don’t want to listen you anymore! It is not poetry at all, it is bad taunting ditties!
And only Knowall, Bustlerie and Perhapsie cried:
- Let him keep reading! If he has read about us then let him read about the others!
- No, let him not! We don’t want to listen to it anymore! – the others screamed.
- Well, if you don’t want, then I’ll go to the neighbors and read my poetry to them, - Knownothing said.
- What? Now you are going to disgrace us before our neighbors? – they shouted. – You then better never come back here!
- Ok, brers, ok! – Knownothing agreed, - You only don’t take offence at me.
Since that Knownothing decided not to write poetry anymore.