Oleg Borisov Poet Couplet

A Tale About An Invisible King

There was a king 
in sheer swing
suffering from illness
believing not in healing
melting out of season
without any reason. 
Medicine lost a race
in such a bizarre case.

His moustache disappeared
together with his beard.    
Proclaimed he a decree
to his wretched breed: 
those who looked at him,
be dead a day within.
His suite escaped in awe
to evade the law.

In the meantime, run 
he down an' down an' down. 	 
Arms his were distinguished  
There to be extinguished.
Better to run for help
not to go to hell,
but also legs his vanished
as if by something banished.

Since then he's not been seen
and where himself he's been.
Has not been seen poor devil
as one of tramps at peril. 
Plain folk are really happy
being tired of that daddy.
Forgotten him and edicts
An' odd freaks of that idiot.
But if they start recalling,
remember he was "holly".

Sometimes under the moon
a groan becomes heard soon. 
Nobody knows, who, where.
It seems it's everywhere.	

	   The End

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