'Rejoice, o people! Old and young <br />Praise God today, and praise the king! <br />'Tis Saint George's Day,' the sheep gave tongue <br />As they trotted along behind their king, <br />The shepherd (as foolish a king and carefree <br />As all earthly kings are wont to be), <br />When, crook in hand, he led them away, <br />By wise dogs assisted, his ministers true <br />Without portfolios and without pay; <br />Any real king would exclaim at that view, <br />'What luck for the sheep such a life to lead, <br />Better than that of my people indeed.' <br />And on went the flock with its lambkins small, <br />So tired and wayworn they trudge and they plod, <br />The young next day to be put to the knife, - <br />For whom? - for Saint George - that brigand God… <br />That poor rotten corpse, so long without life, <br />Is it victims he wants? It's the shepherd's demand, <br />Of gaping gullets and the drunken priest; <br />So on you, the people, the king of the land <br />Makes demands his vile harem to feat <br />And all those by whom you're racked and stripped; <br />Their welfare with sweat and with blood you secure <br />And dance to them even when you're whipped! <br />Look, over there, both rich and poor, <br />All drunk with wine they merrily sing <br />And with the priests praise the Lord and the king… <br />Rejoice, o people! The sheep bleat so <br />When they with the dogs in their shepherd's steps go.<br /><br />Khristo Botev<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/st-george-s-day/
