When Ram had been a little sheep,
Yes, he was on the farm;
With all the other animals,
Under its cozy charm.
Fresh, green herbage and cold water,
Appeased all his desire;
He lived freely daylight and night,
Behind the barbed wire.
No animal cutting his way,
Not even the shepherd –
By the time of his growing horn,
He became more pepper’d.
“Why this chaos on this farm?
Wild animals!” – he moaned.
His eyes scattered sparks and fire,
Looking down from the mound.
“Bah! Chickens run after a cock?
Cow are working the soil?
You all worship the shepherd’s gods,
While the fire’s up to boil.”
“You will die soon under his hand,
Yes, you too, my kitty!”
“Haha, Ram!” – they pooh-poohed him,
When Ram jumped the fence of the farm,
His hot head got cold thoughts;
“I will live a day free, rather than,
Living years for a sauce.”
He cut the woods and shocked the moose,
Jumped the wolf-hole shouting:
“Once you were wolves, now cartoon toys!”
Who watched without scouting…
This was the story of a Ram,
Who lived his own nature –
Even if I forgot his death,
[He’s been a] legendary creature.