14th March 2022

What have you done, Ruskovich, my son?

Why have you banded together with Belaruskovich, my other son,

To bring death and destruction upon your own brother, Ukranovich,

Upon his children, his wives, his livestock, his farms, 

His grazing fields, his share of the inheritance?

Were you so jealous of him that you coveted his children, 

His wives, his livestock, his farms, his grazing fields,
His share of the inheritance 

Apart from having your own children, your own wives, 

Your own livestock, your own farms, 

Your own grazing fields, your own share of the inheritance?

You have inherited this murderous gene from your ancestors,
Your forefather, Cain,
Who killed in cold blood his own brother, Abel,
Out of sheer jealousy, 
When he saw the offerings his brother brought from his flock
Were more favored in the eyes of God

Than the offerings he brought from his fields.

Should he not have pondered on how he might find favor 

In the eyes of God

By following his brother's example
With burnt offerings of choice cuts of meat dripping with fat
And whose aroma was pleasing to the Lord
Instead of killing him in cold blood
And denying his murderous deed afterwards?

You are making your ancestors proud, Ruskovich, my son,
By following in their murderous footsteps.

Here, Ruskovich, my son, here is a length of rope.
Hopefully, it will be long enough for you
To hang yourself with it.