|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 gods’ temple there!
Do you think you’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 wouldn’t ram my dick
down all two hundred throats? Think again. And,
paint graffiti dicks on your tavern walls?
Because my girl, who’s fled far from my arms,
whom I loved as I’ll never love again,
for whom so many fights were fought and won,
lives there. The rich and mighty screw her now,
and—it’s so bad—punks 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|