Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Boris Vian

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 Poems by Boris Vian
Translated by Jeremy Page


RED
To Edith

Mothers bleed when you’re made
And hold you all your life
By a flayed gash of flesh
You’re brought up in cages
You live by chewing morsels
Of bleeding, torn off breasts
Which you hook onto your cradle
You have blood all over you.
And as you don’t enjoy the sight of this
You make the blood of others flow
One day, there won’t be any left
And you’ll be free.


 
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