Live and Die
She, returned from work
Undressed, when at home;
Piece by piece, everything,
Head to toe, left nothing.
Then, headed for shower
Controlled the water
From cold, to warmer
Tested and, let it rain.
When clean of sweat
Wrapped around a towel.
Looked around and let out
The steam and wiped out
The fog, off the mirror.
Looked at face, neck and hair
Smiled and adored them.
"Hey, aren't you angel? "
She recalled, having heard.
She dropped the towel;
With the eyes took measure
Of her neck, chest, breasts
All the way to the legs.
Gazed at the cattish part,
Moved its wool to the sides.
As if she was talking
With great old hero:
"Of you, I am proud; "
Said, smiled…
"Thanks to you, men live, die;
You rewrite all the laws,
You dictate: "Peace or War! "
Be, remain, what you are! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Courbet called his painting of it 'The Origin of the World' (in French of course) Your 'Live and Die' = Vivre et Mourir
Thanks a lot...I like that and did not know it.