The Ballad of the Praying Mantis

I.

The pretty Praying Mantis
makes me slightly drunk
and strangely mellow,
when I see her playing
with that cocky prey.

This little beetle was
too boisterous and soon
he’ll simply pay the price;
how bold and blind he is.

Does he ignore the well-known lore
of the Praying Mantis, who lures
and tempts and mesmerizes
the youths from all seven seas of seed,
who fight against an ocean of grass
to reach the siren of sunflowers?

He does and is already dead now;
she embraces him firmly,
hugs him endlessly
and dances with him
into the sunset.

With slow, swaying motions
she rocks him in her claws,
gently prays with him,
but knows no mercy.

Now, silently, his remnants
are sinking down into the dust,
being left behind,
beside the helmet
of the stag beetle
and the sting
of a bee.

Bye, beetle, you did it
the wrong way.

I know my Praying Mantis;
deep inside she‘s lonely;
playing passionate songs
with my strong hind legs
I can see her shadow
moving to my music.

She needs it and I wonder
what her eyes will look like;
tomorrow I will jump
onto the sunset flower
and keep her company.

II.

The pretty Praying Mantis
makes me slightly drunk
and strangely mellow
when I see her playing
with that cocky prey.

This little grashopper
was too boisterous and soon
he’ll simply pay the price;
how bold and blind he is!