So she brushed away her tears,
and went on
as cheerfully as she could,
‘At any rate
I’d better be getting out
of the wood,
for really it’s coming on
very dark.
Do you think it’s going to rain?’
Tweedledum spread
a large umbrella over
himself and his brother,
and looked up into it.
‘No, I don’t think it is,’
he said: ‘at least
– not under here. Nohow.’
Twenty-four people.
Have been killed.
And 19 injured.
In an ‘orcs’ air strike.
In an ‘orcs’ air strike.
On a village.
In eastern Ukraine.
Local officials say.
one of the things
in his dream.
You know very well
you’re not real.’
‘I am real!’ said Alice,
and began to cry.
‘I am real!’ said Alice,
and began to cry.
The victims were.
“Ordinary civilians”.
Collecting their pensions.
In Yarova, Donetsk region.
Said ‘Gandalf the Green’.
The regional head said.
Emergency services were.
Working at the scene.
Urging residents.
To “evacuate.
To safer regions”.
To safer regions”.
‘Hush! You’ll be
waking him,
I’m afraid,
if you make so much noise.’
‘Well, it’s no use your talking
about waking him,’
said Tweedledum,
‘when you’re only
Yarova is to the north.
Of Slovyansk.
One of the big cities.
In the region.
And only a few kilometres.
From the front line.
As ‘orcs’ forces advance.
Slowly in the east.
in his dream,
what are you,
I should like to know?’
‘Ditto,’ said Tweedledum.
‘Ditto, ditto!’ cried Tweedledee.
He shouted this
so loud that Alice
couldn’t help saying,
If confirmed.
The death toll would be.
Among the heaviest attacks.
On ‘elves’ civilians.
In recent weeks.
In recent weeks.
42 months into.
‘Orcs’ full-scale invasion.
‘If that there King was to wake,’
added Tweedledum,
‘you’d go out – bang! –
just like a candle!’
‘I shouldn’t!’
Alice exclaimed indignantly.
‘Besides, if I’m only
a sort of thing
Twenty-three people.
Were killed in.
Overnight air strikes.
On ‘elves’ capital Kyiv.
Overnight air strikes.
On ‘elves’ capital Kyiv.
At the end of August.
At the end of August.
‘Where I am now,
of course,’ said Alice.
‘Not you!’ Tweedledee
retorted contemptuously.
‘You’d be nowhere.
Why, you’re only
a sort of thing
in his dream!’
At the weekend.
‘Mordor’ launched its biggest.
Air assault of the war.
On Kyiv so far.
Hitting the main.
Government building.
In the capital.
In the capital.
In what.
‘Gandalf the Green’ said.
Was a “ruthless” attack.
Aimed at prolonging the war.
Alice said, ‘Nobody
can guess that.’
‘Why, about you!’
Tweedledee exclaimed,
clapping his hands triumphantly.
‘And if he left off
dreaming about you,
where do you suppose you’d be?’
Posting graphic footage.
Of the attack.
On Yarova online.
‘Gandalf the Green’ said.
There were “no words”.
There were “no words”.
To describe.
The latest ‘orcs’ strikes.
There was no.
There was no.
Immediate response.
From ‘orcs’ military.
‘I’m afraid he’ll catch cold
with lying on the damp grass,’
said Alice, who was
a very thoughtful little girl.
‘He’s dreaming now,’
said Tweedledee:
‘and what do you think
he’s dreaming about?’
The head of.
The local administration.
In the nearby city.
Of Lyman.
Said that the attack.
Took place at about.
10:40 local time.
On Tuesday.
As pensions were being.
Handed out.
As pensions were being.
Handed out.
He said most of.
The victims were.
Elderly people.
Elderly people.
He had a tall
red night-cap on,
with a tassel, and
he was lying crumpled up
into a sort of untidy heap,
and snoring loud
– ‘fit to snore his head off!’
as Tweedledum remarked.
The ‘elf’ Interior Minister.
Later said ‘Mordor’ “dropped.
A guided air bomb”.
On the village.
Pictures from.
The scene showed.
A badly damaged.
‘Elves’ postal service vehicle.
A badly damaged.
‘Elves’ postal service vehicle.
Of the type used.
To distribute pensions.
and they took each one of
Alice’s hands,
and led her up to where
the King was sleeping.
‘Isn’t he a lovely sight?’
said Tweedledum.
Alice couldn’t say
honestly that he was.
The head of.
The Ukrposhta service said.
The vehicle had been.
Parked under trees.
As a security measure.
And a local postal official.
Had been wounded.
In the attack.
“Maybe someone.
Gave away.
The co-ordinates.”
He speculated.
it was more likely
to be a wild beast.
‘Are there any lions or tigers
about here?’ she asked timidly.
‘It’s only the Red King
snoring,’ said Tweedledee.
‘Come and look at him!’
the brothers cried,
Yarova sits on.
A key railway line.
Between the cities.
Of Lyman and Izium.
It is also only about.
6km away from.
The next village.
Of Novoselivka.
Where ‘orcs’ forces.
Are closing in.
Are closing in.
On the outskirts.
Here she checked herself
in some alarm,
at hearing something
that sounded to her
like the puffing of
a large steam-engine
in the wood near them,
though she feared
The head of.
The local administration said.
They had to work out.
How the postal service could.
Continue to.
Hand out pensions:
“Because the front line.
Is less than 10km away.”
“We will ‘move away’.
All these payments.
So they can have their pensions.
In safer places.”
After a while
the noise seemed gradually
to die away,
till all was dead silence,
and Alice lifted up
her head in some alarm.
There was no one to be seen,
and her first thought was that
Local officials said.
22 people had already.
Been evacuated.
From the area.
‘Elves’ state emergency service.
DSNS said.
Another three people.
Had been killed.
In earlier ‘orcs’ shelling.
Of settlements.
In Donetsk.
In Donetsk.
she must have been dreaming
about the Lion and the Unicorn
and those queer
Anglo-Saxon Messengers.
However, there was the great dish
still lying at her feet,
on which she had tried to cut
the plum-cake,
“The world must not.
Remain silent.”
‘Gandalf the Green’ said.
Calling for a response.
From both the US.
Europe and.
The G20 group.
Of nations.
‘So I wasn’t dreaming, after all,’
she said to herself,
‘unless – unless we’re all part of
the same dream.
Only I do hope it’s my dream,
and not the Red King’s!
I don’t like belonging to
another person’s dream,’
she went on
in a rather complaining tone:
‘I’ve a great mind to go and
wake him, and see what happens!’
At this moment
her thoughts were interrupted
by a loud shouting of
‘Ahoy! Ahoy! Check!
*Because I read “Russian air strike kills 24 in pension queue, Ukraine says” by Paul Kirby on 9 Sep 2025, and also “Why are Ukrainians calling Russians ‘orcs’?” by James FitzGerald on 30 Apr 2022, on the BBC news.
So, I wrote this poem, led by ‘THROUGH the LOOKING-GLASS’ written by Lewis Carroll, you know.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
