In Lvov there is a statue
That has forgotten
Who it's meant to honor.
It calls to passersby:
"Look! I hold a small shield
Or perhaps a large pot lid.
Was I a warrior? A cook?"
Other statues feel sorry for it.
On moonless nights Diana
Borrows a lantern from
The memorial to the inventors
Of the petroleum lamp
And visits for a while;
Ivan Pidkova tells him
That if the thing in his hand
Is a shield he really should
Hold it just a bit higher.
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