We are noble and upright,
never late for work.

They are badly shaven, petty criminals,
not to be trusted.

Spreading like weeds throughout the land
with all their offspring.

Now then; Radovan comes along,
with a black box crammed in his fist;
a magic box, containing
a complete, miniature pastoral.
Just a bit barren, though
as he reveals the scenery.


Listen, can you make out
those peculiar, tiny knolls?