For Egor's aching emptiness
prescribe a potion pill
Transform the monster, hideous
into whate'er he will
Reshape the face to features fine
warp the spine to stand
fill a glass with cherry wine
and place it in his hand
Behold the masterpiece, complete
behold your work performing
sweeping damsels off their feet
in wildflowers adorning
But, on the stroke of blackest hour
flee hither, to the den
for all his sweetness shall turn sour
and Egor be himself again