Wild Thing
Claude Cahun
I will bear you toward the frightening sea which is still and rebellious like an overcome deer, glass sea bucking and buckling androgenous, so that you completely alleviate its storm.
You will fear neither his collected body, nor his lion's mane, though its wet, thin strips whip you, and his firey face spits at you. Your eyes will make laughter with its tears, a laughter which breaks your mouth, resounds and covers and floods which overrun the gilded sand bars of their immense cage.
In nature's circus your puerile confidence, absolute, disarming, protects you from disastrous animals and cruel monsters.
Like an overcome deer which bucks, the stormy sea: I would carry you to it so that you calm his storm.
*
I will bear you toward the worm-choked forest, the forest with large lianas like snakes, boas, towards the crawling bush, so that you charm a song out of season from it. You don't fear the traps hidden under the winding-sheet, the stench of their violet rot, the somnolent reptiles rattling with poison, the beautiful poisonous flowers, the trees drawn up and whistling with changeable bark, twisting in the disappearing body of sun.
Your disarming confidence protects you, in the circus of nature, from disastrous animals and cruel monsters.
*
Towards the City which deploys the vast wings of his black factories, towards the town of prey, I will carry you so that you tame these raptors by the simple, sovereign capacity of your pure smile.
You will not tremble in front of the blazing city, or enter into its cool greenhouses that shelter, below the infernal sky, herds of small children, only to rip them apart in its smoky belly. Eagle, falcon, owl, you will confuse the proud diurnal one and the nocturnal voracious one. Innocent, you will be able to scorn their haughty nobility.
And your disarming confidence, in the circus of nature, will protect you from the disastrous animals and cruel monsters.
*
Towards my Revolt with each restive word, towards the defensive disorder of my spirit, order cruel gestures, soften raucous voices. I will lead you so that you cherish my sentences, my child.
Claude Cahun
I will bear you toward the frightening sea which is still and rebellious like an overcome deer, glass sea bucking and buckling androgenous, so that you completely alleviate its storm.
You will fear neither his collected body, nor his lion's mane, though its wet, thin strips whip you, and his firey face spits at you. Your eyes will make laughter with its tears, a laughter which breaks your mouth, resounds and covers and floods which overrun the gilded sand bars of their immense cage.
In nature's circus your puerile confidence, absolute, disarming, protects you from disastrous animals and cruel monsters.
Like an overcome deer which bucks, the stormy sea: I would carry you to it so that you calm his storm.
*
I will bear you toward the worm-choked forest, the forest with large lianas like snakes, boas, towards the crawling bush, so that you charm a song out of season from it. You don't fear the traps hidden under the winding-sheet, the stench of their violet rot, the somnolent reptiles rattling with poison, the beautiful poisonous flowers, the trees drawn up and whistling with changeable bark, twisting in the disappearing body of sun.
Your disarming confidence protects you, in the circus of nature, from disastrous animals and cruel monsters.
*
Towards the City which deploys the vast wings of his black factories, towards the town of prey, I will carry you so that you tame these raptors by the simple, sovereign capacity of your pure smile.
You will not tremble in front of the blazing city, or enter into its cool greenhouses that shelter, below the infernal sky, herds of small children, only to rip them apart in its smoky belly. Eagle, falcon, owl, you will confuse the proud diurnal one and the nocturnal voracious one. Innocent, you will be able to scorn their haughty nobility.
And your disarming confidence, in the circus of nature, will protect you from the disastrous animals and cruel monsters.
*
Towards my Revolt with each restive word, towards the defensive disorder of my spirit, order cruel gestures, soften raucous voices. I will lead you so that you cherish my sentences, my child.
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