A TALE BEGUN
The world is never ready
for the birth of a child.
Our ships are not yet back from Winnland.
We still have to get over the St. Gothard pass.
We've got to outwit the watchmen on the desert of Thor,
fight our way through the sewers to Warsaw's center,
gain access to King Harald the Butterpat
and wait until the downfall of Minister Fouche.
Only in Acapulco
can we begin anew.
We've run out of bandages,
matches, hydraulic presses, arguments, and water.
We haven't got the trucks, we haven't got the Minghs' support.
This skinny horse won't be enough to bribe the sheriff.
No news so far about the Tartars' captives.
We'll need a warmer cave for winter
and someone who can speak Harari.
We don't know who to trust in Nineveh,
what conditions the prince cardinal will decree,
which names Beria's still got inside his files.
They say Charles the Hammer strikes tomorrow at dawn.
In
this situation let's appease Cheops,
report ourselves of our own free will,
change faiths ,
pretend to be friends with the Doge
and that we've got nothing to do with the Kwabe tribe.
Time to light the fires .
Let's send a cable to grandma in Zabierzow.
Let's untie the knots in the yurta's leather straps .
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