THE BALLAD OF SALTED SHOES
In ancient times
There was a tyrant—an old king.
His cruelty was so great
That even cruelty itself was horrified.
One day, sensing his death was near,
He called his heir:
“Are you ready, my son? The throne is yours.”
The son was ready—
But the king decided to test him.
Two rams were brought.
For a month, each of them fed one.
A month later—
The heir’s ram, fat and strong,
Left the bodyguards crippled.
But the king’s ram—
So thin that its ribs showed through its skin.
And the most terrible part:
The king sprinkled salt
On his shoes.
The ram began to lick them.
The heir learned a great lesson.
One day, as the tyrant was dying,
The devil asked him:
“What will happen to the country?”
The king replied:
“You will have to work with my heir.”
The devil trembled and said:
“Enough… even evil has its limits.”
…And the heir
Became a very “good” king.
Seeing his cruelty,
The people prayed for his father.
They licked
His salted shoes.
And he pressed
On the people’s wounds—
Even though
There was no salt
In their food.
-
The Cold of War’s Fire
While putting up wire mesh around his land,
Out of poverty, he drove stakes into the ground instead of fence posts
-
And used a few acacia trees as posts
Then he went to war
Returned with shrapnel in his body
-
Meanwhile, the wires had wrapped the acacias tightly
Later, they tore through the bark
And entered inside them
Now the acacias were eating the wire, squeezing it
-
The acacias resembled their owner
As if they too had shrapnel in their bodies
And were feeding on that shrapnel,
Meeting their iron needs this way, without burdening their roots
-
He too was feeding on shrapnel
As a war veteran, on 80 AZN a month
One day, because of debt,
His gas was cut off
He chopped the acacias into firewood
-
He burned the acacia wood
The shrapnel in the acacias was melting from the heat
But the shrapnel in his body
Was making him feel even colder
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