Song Of A Sick Girl Poem by Abraham Sutzkever
Song Of A Sick Girl
After my death, from my belly
A forest will swim out,
And I myself will live in that forest.
My kisses will turn into birds,
And I myself will sing
Out of the birds.
I shall don the dress of a gazelle,
A young hunter will see
And think: A gazelle.
But before he pulls his arrow,
Quickly I shall undress in the bed of grass,
And the arrow, taut in the thin bow of my brow,
I shall hurl at the hunter.
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5/2/2024 3:33:24 AM # 1.0.0.1119
