экспериментальное творчество на английском. Убейте, не пойму, что тут достойно восхищения, кроме соединения несоединимых слов
Once I received a really strange thing, which at a closer look appeared to be a piece of parchment. When I folded it out, I read a letter, which contained best wishes and invitations to some kind of an anniversary. At first I had no idea about the author of the letter, but then I recollected an old friend of mine, a peaceful cloud-dweller, a madcap would-be inventor of something that would change the world completely (he was talking about it days on end).
He wanted me to come to a certain agreed place and then just let things go. When I came, men in black put a band on my eyes, and what happened next, remains a secret - I just know they took me into the plane. After a couple of hours the band was taken off, and I saw my friend, whose appearance reminded me a stand-in tsar. As it turned out, I was not far from the truth. He told me a fantastic story, in the result of which he became a president of a country (I still don't know either its name or location). Being intellectually precaucious, my friend understood that it wasn't time for day-dreaming, so he deployed all the resources the country had at its disposal sensibly, in order to increase its economic level.
He was able to pull it off and actually the times of his reign were more glorious for the country than the times when it was ruled by enlightened nobility. The president turned to outer policy then, and invited his potential henchmen to a meeting and conversation. However, the representative of one country was not accepted (they had an oppressive regime there), and that country turned into a vindictive enemy (they even hired hitmen to kill my friend). War took place, but the country under the leadership of my friend was a winner, and that happened exactly 5 years ago - so that was the reasn for the anniversary!
After a meeting my friend was regaling me with some more interesting facts. Not long ago it became fashionable among presidents to write poems, so my friend emerged in style. Surprisingly, the poems were pretty good, and though they didn't fit into the category of brilliant masterpieces, they were on a popular level and even referred to as a minor classics. However, my friend undervalued his poems, paying more attention to the works of another man. He was a notorious peasant-slayer and became a tragically depressed outcast - because the society couldn't stand his deeds. The poems ascribed to him envisioned the prophecies about the future of his country. Being a voracious reader, I took a look on poems and came to the conclusion that he had some kind of distorted version of events which were bestowed on his country...