YOGAILLA’S NIGHTINGALES

There is a castle and an old orchard behind
A gloomy grove drowned in the moonlight
Enchanted forest that bathes in a trill
A trill that only magic throat can sing
Old king Yogailla is lured outside
where throng of good folk is flying about
These are not nightingales as he is told
By senile ear these are demons of old
They buzz around and ridicule weak men
‘Your young queen she seems like in a spleen
Your manly strength has waned away
And this is the second day of May
What you will ask for will be given thee’
‘Or maybe Emperor you want to be’
Sings lesovik that rules the forest
‘What shall I do’ ‘What is my quest?’
Just lay here down we’ll do the deed
So king abides and jumps in a creek
That crosses shrubbery from north to south
And to its banks to fulfill the oath
Come mammunas all in red hairs
And vicious lihos and sycamore heirs –
Rusalkas surface their soft naked
breasts from stream that they hold sacred
Then they start chopping Yogaillas body
Some tore open his belly and things get sloppy
With guts that lay bare and a manure that oozes
From mutilated corpse that they rape and abuse
They scrape his old fragile bones white
And open a ribcage and throw the lung into the night
They took out his eyeballs and fuck his eyesocks
And strange game they play with his bollocks
They striped him of muscles and ripped open the joints
And pissed on what was left and reached out for the ointment
A magic paste that makes king whole again
And soon he is limping slowly away
Hoping that forest folks keep their promise
And being young he will never again miss
But they withhold his heart in a box made of magic
A thing that old king would never imagine
So soon after he dies
And who is ignorant repeats stupid lies
That old king died of pneumonia
On second of May