A Tale Dream

Part 1

On a wonderful planet,
where winds played
on spacious plains,
trees apace grew.

Their weird knotted –
breaking all norms –
trunks strived for the light
like their big roots.

Besides the leafs –
just for defence –
unshaven faces
stuck out their thorns.

Blazing swarms –
up to the flyers –
incarnadine flowers
over there bloomed.

In marvelous bushes
spent their lives
with boring days
wonderful cats.

Lazybones,
ignoring flies,
not touching fleas
twiddled their tails.

Cottony pads –
suitable slippers –
they smoothed with care
with their coarse tongues.

Of idleness total
of those she-cats all
only one looked for
something wonderful –

for a bottomless spring
of love stories
and flashed sweetly
her eyes.

On her red crown
scattered spots,
trembled somewhat
beauty ears.

For nagging boredom –
the feeling of sorrow –
she caught
remote sounds.

'An unknown stranger,
who is that messenger,
may be the chosen one?'
Thought she.

Subject to fate,
without any fear,
to hit the road
she decided.

Luxuriant twigs
made her eyes close,
strong winds
let her tears fall…


Part 2

Not in any quagmire –
in a wonderful plain,
he raised as a tree
among depression.
In long thoughts,
with a sharp wit,
threw needles around
in the surroundings.
Stood there alone
far from his fellows.
From time to time
bent usually down
under the winds.
From a high crown
to the green grass
lay the landscape,
behind a swamp
there were the hills.

In misery there,
he looked farther,
the stature was higher.
Growth had nothing
to do with curiosity.
Rooted to that ground
needed new to be found,
besides his own side,
in faraway spots.
Tortures took root
in the stock.
Never seen,
never challenged:
all that was high,
all that was far.
He’d strive for a valley,
but grew in a broad
with no kith kin plain.


Part 3

Flickered under the branch
black tiny blotch –
just look for caress
two little eyes.

He was surprised
that a little bit leaned.
Down there on the ground
crawled a she cat about.

As if she went out.
Though with dirty around
sheer joy she sent out,
curring sweetly.

She rubbed her wool
against the tree,
playing with leaves.
The hero was moved.

By those lovely spangles
he was besotted,
the out-of-reach crown
went forth an` back.

From it he would
suffer for nothing.
His depression could
turn against him.

No good came of that.
He couldn’t act
with a first thought.
He never dreamed
of such a creature.

`Cause he was puzzled
he rustled.
The cat mewed,
to him responding,
him fondling.

‘How high you are.’
Uttered she bravely.
‘How lone you are.’
Added she faintly.

Neither a word
nor half-word.
All that was then
the thorned couldn’t neglect.

‘I see you got wet through
for the world not being hither,
with no friends around you,
you stand here and wither.’

‘How now, you are from,
a sharp-sighted creature?
What vanity come from,
you pesky teacher?’

`Cause of trouble
he ruffled.
She was playfully
clinging to him,
looking upward,
stretching herself,
pitying on him.

Tired, it seemed,
of a very long trip.
His nasty tone
and his strict moral
she didn`t notice,
peacefully yawning,
there she lay down
and fell asleep
near the tree…


Part 4

The stars shone outside
and cold night breathed out
a breath of fresh air,
with gentle breeze there
it patted cat’s head.
A star above burned,
and near another –
it must be a brother.
“They’re friends over there”,
imagined the branchy,
“and circle in pair,
at each other clutching”.
He felt sudden sad.
He saw constellations,
his joy deeply slept
without any regret.
“What a beautiful she”,
thought he again,
“and so skittish to me
in a cat and mouse game.
Most likely she’s hungry
in her windy sleep,
and she's rather naughty
to lie under a tree”.
He pushed only with care
her sticking up curl.
She didn’t awake,
her ears just twitching,
her flexible body
rolled up in a ball.
He gently her covered,
patting her hair,
combing it neatly,
and breathed in so deeply.


Part 5

The world on a morning
was presented anew.
The sleepy cat woke,
stretching herself,
and heavily curved
her limber back ,
straining her body
like a tight spring,
lay on one side,
started licking herself.
A day was just dawning,
all its bright colors
returning there back.
The born day
yielded hot weather
and a space for a shadow.
All creatures longing for it,
and she derived pleasure
from the shade of the tree,
and remembered her dreams.

The tree at that moment
was sleeping
the sleep of the just.
No cloudlet in heaven,
no breeze at the earth,
and heat gave no chance.
In no time at all,
the guest on the bough,
she swiftly climbed up,
took shelter in branches,
and lazily thought of
her dreams of the night
and the shade of the trunk.

She dreamt of her dream:
she was a luxuriant tree,
and she came across
a cat with a mane,
so rampant he was,
sticking his claws
up to her squash.
A desolate place.
Turned into a lioness
then suddenly she.
Spitting at him,
clinging to him,
biting his muzzle.
The shaggy timidly
snarling at her
made a retreat
and bent himself down
straight to the ground.
Before him the she-cat
lay down on her back,
her eye on him keeping,
luring and waiting
for a probable rush.
He like a whip snake
to her softly crawled
and started to lick her.
The pussy though growled
she did let him pat her.
The lascivious beast
bent down over her
and turned into a yew.


Part 6

A breeze started to blow
behind foliage whole.
Began out of his dream
the tree shook then his leaf.
She got carried away
by the dream of the day
pricked herself on a thorn
and fell down as acorn.
She run into his temper,
with her skin a bit torn.
A leaf followed her quick,
the trunk started to creak,

“I had a dream –
I was a cat
striding on the ground.
A sunny beam
lit mountain’s hat,
and to its foot a bound.
A spirit said,
“hold to the mount,
claw way up to the top”,
more nothing heard
an` I was hardly bold.
Strained to the peak,
a homeless man,
so, searches for the ground.
Of paths being slick,
claws let me stand,
was nearly to fall down.
I reached the end
but down I fell,
Oh, God, head over heels
an` landed well
at `nother side of hills.
I marched there in the valley
an` saw my fellow men,
who spoke my language barely
an` greeted me on land.
In front of me, come at a bound,
there was a yellow fig,
an` all the fruits were hanging down
from her splendid twig.
By beauty stricken suddenly
I felt myself amused
an` started turning, out of hand,
into a handsome yew”.

Our darling scratcher
became a word catcher,
listened to the story,
showing all her claws.
And her answer was:
“the dreams the same
we dreamt today,
a tree looked like a cat,
and the resembling end”.
So in her dream
scrambled the tree.


Part 7

And the she cat
there stayed.
With the tree
gladly played,
making friends,
handling days.
She herself feed on borers,
shielded he her from hot rays.

Many springs passed
many trees raised,
the tree became taller,
the same she cat higher.
The colors, the eyes
that was known from before,
all that playfully playing,
with that known old good yew...

One day
the tree waited
for her from the hunting.
And gracefully
saddened all day
and peacefully
stood ‘round the dusk.
And then all night long
he slept not at all.
No joy held the morning,
the bright sun was boring.
Grief, fear and jealousy
all there were born,
pain, anger and tears
mixed all in his soul.
Some days grieved for her,
some nights waited there.
He got sorrow itself
then to know it in full,
with his falling leaves,
his ideal grew dark…

On the ninth day
of painful thoughts
he was glad to be burnt
or was glad to go mad.
Of being wrung out
he fell asleep
into a dream…

And he dreamt of
by the worms he being bored,
a nest on his branches ill built.
Pain devoured the trunk,
the tree’s crust
was covered with rust
and then turned into dust.
The tree hollowed alone.
The environs own
reddened totally,
with embarrassment
hiding the cat.
The green tree
became fully red.
Winds blew
haze everywhere.
A madder color
covered the world.

“She’ll never
come back”,
scrambled the tree…

He opened his eyes,
near was sleeping his wife.


The End

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