Prince Igor Poem by gershon hepner

An opera by Borodin
shows passion may be torrid in
Polovtsian regions of the realm
the Czar had conquered, far from Chelm,
for heroes of the Russian nation,
like Igor, whose pronunciation
should never rhyme with vodka liquor,
which works like music, but is quicker,
nor, though symmetrical, with tiger,
less hard to climb than slopes of Eiger,
nor with the n-word––you can figure
why he threw fits addressed as Igger.
The famous prince was always eager
that everyone should call him Igor,
and when they heard him sing “Lyublu, ”
although some did not have a clue
quite what he meant, because it’s Russian,
they’d empathize with his strong passion
He was a chemist who went deaf,
and couldn’t even hear ff,
but did hear high notes due to tinnitus––
see First Quartet before its finitus.
I love all of the works he wrote,
and end my verse on this high note.

2/7/99,11/16/09