by Zbigniew Herbert.
MOON
I don't understand how you can write poems about the moon. It's fat and slovenly. It picks the noses of chimneys. Its favorite thing to do is climb under the bed and sniff at your shoes.
(translated by Alissa Valles)
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Moon
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1 comment:
haa, fantastic. also such shiny hair.
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