max and erin photobomb

Max and Erin photo bombing our group photo at Thanksgiving

 

*

 

 

Tsars, Kings, Emperors,

sovereigns of all the earth,

have commanded many a parade,

but they cannot command Humor.

 

When Aesop, the tramp, came visiting

the palaces of eminent personages,

ensconced in sleek comfort all day,

they struck him as paupers.

 

In houses where hypocrites have

left the mark of their puny feet,

there Hodja-Nasr-ed-Din, with his jests,

swept aside their banalities like a board of chessmen!

 

They tried to buy Humor–

but Humor is not for sale!

They tried to murder Humor,

but Humor thumbed his nose at them!

 

It’s a hard business to fight Humor.

They executed him time and again.

His hacked-off head was stuck on the point of a pike.

 

But as soon as the funeral pipes

began their plaintive song,

Humor defiantly cried: “I’m back, I’m here!”,

and broke into a dashing dance.

 

In an overcoat, shabby and short,

with eyes cast down and a mask of repentance,

Humor, a political criminal now under arrest,

walked to his execution.

 

He appeared to submit in every way,

accepting the life-beyond,

but all of a sudden he wriggled out

of his coat, and, waving his hand, escaped.

 

Humor was shoved into cells,

but like hell that did any good.

Humor went straight through

prison bars and walls of stone.

 

Coughing from frozen lungs

like any man in the ranks,

Humor marched, singing a popular ditty,

rifle in hand upon the Winter Palace.

 

He’s accustomed to frowning looks,

but they do him no harm;

and Humor regards himself at times

with humor.

 

He’s everpresent.

Nimble and quick,

he’ll slip through anything,

through everyone.

 

So glory be to humor.

He is a valiant fellow!

 

“Humor” — Yevgeny Yevtushenko

 

*

Done