Arowych pwll lyffad y ei droisech su i’r gwngyol! Draeffyd ew aech gwllech dyll yr an eichedd y yr mirthen col sgaer. Perth mae wechd syrflyrd a’r ac dwll, y yr morgan gllanydd im cymarant. Lyyfyd – go!
Jus’qua mon aime l’effecér un pareux des naveuse, en par révettre à vois de “peep”! Nous partables et peu d’affair de gangléon, mon prevant seur mé plante. En corbet? Matthieu… sin l’amais tout à tout ravaille féret, et foxér, et les camilléz. J’éme bourent deu un noix, j’eme actuel, à la “clap-clap-clap-clap” (avec “clop-clop-clop-clop”). Nom: le côntre des fries.
'Suramin' Six set sail upon the sea Clutching their pillows, and paper sacks While others, solemnly, stayed To watch them drifting from the shore And out, across the bay Each his limit to endure For unknown ends. Not one came back And they were not expected Neither was the cure And so, upon each face, they made Circles with their fingers, crossed Their names out with a pencil Closed their eyes, and picked six more To go away, to live The rest of their days at sea The human body to explore. - L.G. 'Bike Ride' Give me the road, and I'll ride to the moon! After two weeks of towing My daughters behind I rode, lone, and free Yet heard them in my ears and smiled: "It's bumpy!" "I'm thirsty!" "I have to go pee!" and Breathless, I (between breaths) As I pushed Uphill, red-faced, replied: "Who ever said that this was meant to be a life of luxury," talking to myself "It wasn't me," I said, as we Came over the brow of the hill And, at the bottom, into view Came Gale's, the ice-cream place And, suddenly, we were flying And the girls behind me squealing And the wind tore the words from my throat: "Who wants one?" - L.G.
Ah… Wer du mitschellagen zu bist der heiner und eckhten. Sie unßer die üper end offelkampf wüs kelein! Allanz sir aller köch wer siedel, nach – nacht-nacht – du ist fuchsen zu maüsenflik. Ha-ha-ha, spreuch der machiegenmensch. Witten?! Wallen auber önder fleitenkraftelaft, der kaütze. Lafter! Eber eil allenz halfter… Ja.
'Chipmunk' I tried to save a chipmunk, but it died. We called it Charles (Charlie). Clearly badly hurt, We kept it in the garage with some straw And some dirt, in the dark In an old drawer from a fridge (Not as cold as it sounds...) we Threw out, and which we kept For some reason (Not this one...) Not a fan of lying, Not much good at it, either, and My CV lacking substance, when I got round to applying for My second-ever job, I included this: 'Tried to save a chipmunk, but it died.' My interviewer, suited, tied Eyed me, then he why-ed me: "Why," he asked, "did you include this?" I stood up, and spoke With great passion, from the throat As, plainly, I replied: "This information I provide, Sir, because I did not not Try to save a chipmunk, but it died." I got the job. - A.R. 'The Rain Falls Twice' This morning was already well Drenched, and every drop that fell Was wetter, as I raced for the door No waterproofs, or sweater, even And, for the rest of the day that felt Like three, my feet were damp, and ached My face was wet; I felt just like A swimsuit, all bunched-up inside A grocery sack, in the trunk of the car Discovered three days later. The rain, then, must have been the same But how very different the weather, when We put on our coats, and wellington boots And went out, together, to dance across The dancing floor, and made our boats From petals of the battered rose And we were soon soaked through, but stuck Our lower lips out, and we blew The drops from the ends of our noses, not From cruelty, or in spite, but with Pugnacious sort of joy. And yet, despite the rain, its drops That, like the bubbles of the just-poured Sprite, rose up the windshield, and tickled The cheek, the weather, this morning, is not The same. And who knows whether I Exist? but for the footprint, which Soon dries, and for the tire-tracks that Soon fill, before your eyes. - A.R.
Lo estados torme dos parade me calcente de la borrachido contra-pino. Ci compar nos calabrós es los las luchera, par escula de dengüe o papar. Es me furin o peri ca del fuertes en cajaba, me no doso. Eh, me no dóso quevera se sí pacque los pollo, es dos manche unite. Tóllo, te tóllo. Rajallero las rajalleros, par que rísica quintrera de los mürez establo.
'Mickey And Minnie' Remember when we used to play At fights in front of others Just to shake their certainty And revel, a bit, in ours? Before I called you a bitch, and you Stood before me, coolly, and Because you thought it was the very Cruelest thing that you could do Cut the strings of my guitar Which I took out to the yard And viciously bludgeoned to bits Then came back in, red-eyed, and tried To go to bed, but you kept on Poking me - not figuratively But literally jabbed me, tirelessly For half-an-hour, with one finger Till I lurched up, and you did, too And would not let me leave It was grief that made it so And I was aiming at, when I boomed at you to: "Let me go!" In blurred, slurred echo of Two hours, about, before Then, finally, forced my way Through the door, to the kitchen, where I somehow got a firm grip on And with the warrior cry: "Yea-ho!" Flipped the table over Upon which a statue stood Of Minnie, and her Mickey, standing By a wishing well That you had given me On the birthday after we Admitted, first, our love, now In three, uneasy pieces In different parts of the room. Now, since we are married Not just joined in marriage Which is nothing, really Next to life, and death We have no need to play at fighting Any more than grief And cannot play at hate Any more than love And know that any true depiction of Great lovers must have been At some point, smashed, and glued Together again, in tears. - M.B. 'Magnification' It's said: the lost is always found The last place that you look. This theory to disprove - And solely this in mind - The last time that I found a thing I looked for it again Where I knew it wouldn't be. Steadying my self, With one arm, on the door, Through binoculars, I stared into The fridge. My roommate wandered by And wondered: "What'cha looking for?" "Binoculars," I said - and this Precisely, is the kind of Entertainment one resorts to When one cannot stand Where one finds oneself. - M.B.
Noi i prudetta Adam Waverley scuna del grosso a cortina. Como lomento di suzze i repare, quere tutta della fine. Potestà del’annunziona, crusco e parti, i rizzible. No pre monto di una diante suizzare di dominare. Aruzzi a dell’ani, formàretta calceccio. Domo, domo, domo, allàma di lazzila – no?
'Canned Spinach First' Give me your poor, your tired, Your top five foods, Ranked from best, to worst, Preferred, to least-preferred. Some would say consume In that order - life's too short! But the last would be a sneeze to a Balloon that's fit to burst - surely? Well... that's just science, that's No apple pie, but still I say, Since all is well that ends that way: Canned spinach first. - A.W. 'Danse Grosse' Then there is a thing Which, while witnessing One wants, and one tries To tuck it in. But, in The end, you let it go. I mean, really lose it. So, I found myself alone Rare enough 'round here With nothing on my shoulder Chewing at my ear, And I was young again A mere boy, and a bearded youth Except without the beard, and I Remembered the poster I had on my wall, said: "Dance as if there's no-one watching..." That old chestnut, so I swept the floor, and dropped my pants And that is what I did, till I Caught sight of my reflection in the glass Of the door. I looked utterly ridiculous. So I watched a movie - 'Sound of Music', m*therf***er. - A.W.
Denna och tjanvånder på ma toksviggen, att beroengen dal freksåra. Vin for vakrom sänka att jermen, rekta gerfekken mår och datten. Röt (enkäre setten for nörtar) dretten bentoerver till söm for tag väroendekoefen. Denna “dollar deals” på for kunna Amerik, varökken vi fjarder, eskföltenaär och ter labatommi håll vikrets.
Fangle!
J.Я.
The Morning Corporation **** 