Here is a nice poem by Pavel Alekseyev. unfortunately pavel's e-mail address is no longer valid. Thank you, Pavel for an excellent poem. May the brightest and best blessings follow you throughout your days!
He came out the wood on the winter night
At the time when the moon was born.
And went to the shore where the wind grew wild
And waves were breaking of stone.
It was so cold that no one of beasts
Had courage to leave its lair,
And only that one in the icing mist
Seemed having another care.
He lifted up his head with the fine
And slender spiral horn,
And thought: What is in this lot of mine,
And why am I so alone?
The centuries passed as I had grown up
In the depth of enchanted wood,
And the sun sent down all the warmth it had,
Wherever I trod my foot.
The animals played and the birds were glad
Hearing my easy pace,
And women and men those who pure in heart
Were coming to visit my place.
Then something happened and men became
Obsessed with another deeds.
They started playing a cruel game
And hunt defenseless beasts.
But magic to heal, to defend and to free,
That was given to me one day,
Making invisible living with me
For those who were coming for prey.
At last the people had understood
What the essence of secret should be,
And started coming into my wood
Seeking to capture me.
They wished me to serve those who were in charge
Of all the people and land,
Well, I should like better to stay at large
Why could they not understand ?
They were very smart and tried their best
Chasing me day after day,
That finally I had no minute of rest
And could no longer stay.
So, ones at night when the hunters were gone
I stepped on the pilgrim's road.
Alas, I could nowhere have settled for long
And looked for the other abode.
For men were men, they wished to possess
Whatever they felt they liked,
They seemed so clever, but yet couldn't guess,
That freedom was not to be tied.
That neither beauty, nor love, nor grace
Were under their command,
That only slaves make the others slaves,
And like to have them in hand.
The time has changed, but the people still stay
Where once they had chosen to be,
And as long as it goes this dangerous way,
There will be no room here for me.
This way he thought standing on the shore
Then looked at the pattern of night,
And made a leap that no one ever saw,
And disappeared from the sight.
The heaven accepted its lonely son,
And had become his home.
This is how finally had been done
The story of the unicorn.
© Pavel Alekseyev 1997