|Posted on Thu Apr 02, 2009 02:51:26|| |
|This poem is, of course, outrageously vulgar. But, it is also deeply poignant, and quite beautiful. This translation is awkward and difficult to understand. Below is my effort at a translation. Comments are welcome. |
Whorehouse tavern, and crowd of regulars,
nine doors down from the twin godsĂ˘â‚¬â„˘ temple there!
Do you think youĂ˘â‚¬â„˘re the only ones with cocks?
the only ones allowed to $#$% young girls?
and all the rest of us are goats? Because
one, or two hundred, of you sit in line,
$#$%-ups! you think I wouldnĂ˘â‚¬â„˘t ram my dick
down all two hundred throats? Think again. And,
paint graffiti dicks on your tavern walls?
Because my girl, whoĂ˘â‚¬â„˘s fled far from my arms,
whom I loved as IĂ˘â‚¬â„˘ll never love again,
for whom so many fights were fought and won,
lives there. The rich and mighty screw her now,
andĂ˘â‚¬â€ťitĂ˘â‚¬â„˘s so badĂ˘â‚¬â€ťpunks and alley boys too.
Worst of all, Egnatius, long-haired fop,
you, the son of that rabbit country, Spain,
you, made human by that thick, black beard, with
teeth scrubbed with your own Spanish piss.
|Anthony A. Lee|