The Scythians, a people fierce,
Did leave behind massive grave mounds
Called kurgans which we moderns pierce.
In gold the old tell tale abounds.
From Black Sea centuries ago,
The Scythians went far and wide,
And ancient empires came to know
Scythian warring, looting side.
Ill getting gold was turned to art,
Vessels depicting history.
Inside the residue was part
Opium and cannibis - gee!
The Scythians did live, did die,
Turned gold to art and to get high.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem