The Dirge of the Poet's Fetus, by Jules Laforgue
BLASÉ do I say! Have done!
Forward, and tear these roots that glue like night,
Through...
BLASÉ do I say! Have done!
Forward, and tear these roots that glue like night,
Through...
I MAY be dead tomorrow, uncaressed.
My lips have never touched a woman's, none
Has given me i...
MY mammy, says the Doctor,
Died because something shocked her,
Tra-la-la-la!
My poor mamma....