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Description
What is a Calavera?
A Calavera Literaria is a satirical poem, written as an epitaph, about a person, relative or friend. It usually depicts that person being taken to the afterlife/grave/tomb/cemetery by the personification of Death, the "Grim Reaper", while describing habits and attitudes or funny anecdotes about that (still living) person.It's usually written as a group of strophes with four verses and "free rhyme", so it's up to the writer to decide the rhyme between verses.
This particular set of Calaveras are written as a Cuarteta (fisrt verse rhymes with the third and the second with the fourth) of eight syllabes.
And, because personal preferences, I decided that nopony would die, so I decided that every pony would trick the Death into... well... don't take them to the afterlife, in a way that made sense according to the character.
ALL THE MANE SIX






ROUGH TRANSLATION

So, TL;DR: I apologize to the non-Spanish-Speakers, because this probably will not make any sense to you anyway...
Calavera to Rarity
The Grim Reaper carries a list
of “clients” to deal with,
and to a fashionista pony
this time will pay a visit.
But this designer
creator of fine clothing
took a big impression
when the Death arrived.
Rarity was not scared
of what she had in front of her;
what surprised her most
was the clothes it was wearing.
"By Celestia's Hooves!
such horrible colors!
and that badly made seam
is The.Worst.Possible.Thing!"
The Grim Reaper was ashamed
and hiding his face
went towards the door
searching for the exit.
"Please! Don’t go!
I won’t be able to sleep
knowing that such horror
is parading out there…"
Rarity, the generous
(they don't make 'em like they used to)
made him a beautiful tunic
covered with shining gems.
The Death, impressed
forgot why she had come
and goes away, fascinated
admiring his new clothes.
Attribution time!
The vectors used in this deviation are:●A modified "Rarity - Glamorous and Beautiful" by *MysteriousKaos
●"Carousel Boutique Downstairs East" by *adamlhumphreys
Image size
1200x1800px 2.66 MB
Comments9
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I have to admit, I laughed at this one more than any of the others so far - but I'm only halfway through now, with much delight ahead of me! Here's my English version for your perusal and amusement. The rhymes came out pretty well this time, and even though the first rhyme is mildly dubious I like it anyway
I hope you enjoy!
Light and laughter,
SongCoyote
Within Death's pocket there’s a list of
"Clients" She must visit soon
Today a pony fashionista
Is Her target 'neath the moon
Blue eyes lifted from fine dresses
Forms and patterns hit the floor
Impressed, she tossed her purple tresses
When She came in through the door
Rarity was not so frightened
Of the fate that seemed in store
Her brow came down, her lips were tightened
Dismal were the clothes She wore!
“By Celestia’s dainty hooves!”
Cried she, “Those colors just don’t sing!
And that poor seam-work simply proves
You wear the Worst. Possible. Thing!”
The Reaper hung Her head in shame
And hid Her face within her cowl
She turned go back whence she came
To flee that fierce and judging scowl
“Oh please, don’t go!” called Rarity
“I’ll never have a peaceful sleep
If I allow such vulgarity
Around the darkened streets to creep!”
The generous mare bade Her to stand
(Her pride and skill are rare these days.)
And made for Her a robe most grand
Of silk and gems in rich displays.
And Death, Her eyes wide with delight
Forgot the reason that She came
And left, in a swirl of dazzling light
Admiring how it fit Her frame

Light and laughter,
SongCoyote
Within Death's pocket there’s a list of
"Clients" She must visit soon
Today a pony fashionista
Is Her target 'neath the moon
Blue eyes lifted from fine dresses
Forms and patterns hit the floor
Impressed, she tossed her purple tresses
When She came in through the door
Rarity was not so frightened
Of the fate that seemed in store
Her brow came down, her lips were tightened
Dismal were the clothes She wore!
“By Celestia’s dainty hooves!”
Cried she, “Those colors just don’t sing!
And that poor seam-work simply proves
You wear the Worst. Possible. Thing!”
The Reaper hung Her head in shame
And hid Her face within her cowl
She turned go back whence she came
To flee that fierce and judging scowl
“Oh please, don’t go!” called Rarity
“I’ll never have a peaceful sleep
If I allow such vulgarity
Around the darkened streets to creep!”
The generous mare bade Her to stand
(Her pride and skill are rare these days.)
And made for Her a robe most grand
Of silk and gems in rich displays.
And Death, Her eyes wide with delight
Forgot the reason that She came
And left, in a swirl of dazzling light
Admiring how it fit Her frame