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Barbaria, My Poor Land, I Mourn

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страниц: ~21
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Жанры: Юмористические Стихи, Культурология, Политика, Сатира, Поэзия
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Добавлена: 23.12.2021
     This is English adaptation, what means translation of translatable, i.e. of prosaic part, of one unexpected poetical impromptu of mine, written in the end of corona and protest for Bulgaria 2020 year, which I have never thought to write before, but when our people continue to protest (for half an year) then how can Jotata stay silent? This time these are sextets of type ABABBA, which begin like usual 4-lines rhymed by a line and then reflecting the last 2 lines in a mirror, so that we get 2 triple rhymes. These miniatures in the most shameless (yet deserved) manner spit at our democratic "achievements", that put us at the rightful last place in the European Union. Here in sense of sarcasm the colleague Botev remains far behind the author (thinks the latter). If you like the democracy, our and generally, then do not waste your time in reading of such vomit works (is the advice of the author). Keywords: poetry, critically, funny, anti-democratic, sarcastic, political review, inimitable, retelling of verses, in English,

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