battle and travel

When once came a rajah to us from the East we soon lay before him a welcoming feast. There were but few followers left in his train whose garments did not bear the horrible stains of battle and travel and many weeks spent asleep in the open with nary a tent. They'd fled from the Munguls come down from the plains, as our friendly rajah with patience explained, left all their belongings as booty and plunder and vanished while all that they'd known burst asunder. They wanted to pay for the things they'd ingested – we refused and refused but they just insisted – it was not their money or jewels we wanted but all of the knowledge their brain-pans yet haunted. With learning the wisest among them were brimming, in wisdom and genius we all soon were swimming, to honor common generosity we all got together and planted a tree. That plant is still growing in Queen Pylta's Park, it shelters both scholar and brightly-plumed lark, it's kept getting bigger these two-hundred years, since we fed the rajah with lamb-chops and beers. We still welcome people from far Hindoostan, there are exchange programs for woman and man, so sign up to take part in one of your own or just fill a backpack and start off alone. There is room for all sorts and types in our land, to learn about graphics and mammary glands, about astrophysics and effluvia, with welcome all persons to Grigovia.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥