it is just a woman
it is just a man
Like any woman
can take her man
you think
Like any man
can put his head
in the warmth of his woman
And the woman can take her man
and embrace him
and they can be the eternal couple
But it is the woman who takes his life
she drinks his blood
she ravenous
he willing, conditioned
And her hair turns red with the blood
she must have
and the blood runs even to her fingertips
But it is just a woman
it is just a man
That is what Edvard Munch meant, you think
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem