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Sunday, January 08, 2012

Your Sunday Poem

This from "The Voice at 3:00 A.M.  Selected Late and New Poems" by Charles Simic

What The Gypsies Told My Grandmother While She Was Still A Young Girl.

War, illness and famine will make you their favorite grandchild.
You'll be like a blind person watching a silent movie.
You'll chop onions and pieces of your heart
     into the same hot skillet.
Your children will sleep in a suitcase tied with a rope.
Your husband will kiss your breasts every night
     as if they were two gravestones.

Already the crows are grooming themselves
     for you and your people.
Your oldest son will lie with flies on his lips
     without smiling or lifting his hand.
You'll envy every ant you meet in your life
     and every roadside weed.
Your body and soul will sit on separate stoops
     chewing the same piece of gum.

Little cutie, are you for sale? the devil will say.
The undertaker will buy a toy for your grandson.
Your mind will be a hornet's nest even on your
     deathbed.
You will pray to God but God will hang a sign
     that He's not to be disturbed.
Question no further, that's all I know.

3 comments:

Alon Perlman said...

For a prediction given at the turn of the Century, in the last millennium, two and a half world wars away, in a place that for a while used to be called Yugoslavia, the Romani were kind to the little girl.
Different dimension from the previous Simic poem,
Thanks for choosing them.

Sewertoons said...

WOW is the first thing that comes to mind as my eyes bug open. Scary! Here is a poem to elicit goosebumps. Very interesting choice!

Churadogs said...

Yeah, pretty powerful, both specific and generic -- a prediction/prophecy for us all, in one form or the other.