The midwife of Pablo Picasso
With awareness akin to Sargasso
Thought him dead on arrival,
Not a chance of revival,
and departed the sorry fiasco.
An uncle who’d trained as physician
Saw no need to employ a mortician.
Thrusting cigar aside,
He approached the boy’s side,
Puffed a few times and-viola! -ignition.
Pablo knew from his first infant sneeze
Life was good but without guarantees,
So he was from the start
Most prolific in art,
And also in wives and amies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Didn't know this, but, still like it, as well as Picasso, I like your Art... Colin J...