Posted by Jacques Prevert on January 02, 2005 at 18:52:33:
There are great puddles of blood on the world
Where's it going all this spilled blood
is it the earth that drinks it and gets drunk
funny kind of drunkography then
so wise...so monotonous...
No the earth doesn't get drunk
the earth doesn't turn askew
it pushes its little car regularly its four seasons
rain...snow...
hail...fair weather...
never is it drunk
it's with difficulty it permits itself from time to time
an unhappy little volcano
It turns, the earth
it turns with its trees...its gardens...its houses
it turns with its great pools of blood
and all living things turn with it and bleed ...
It doesn't give a damn
the earth
it turns and all living things set up a howl
it doesn't give a damn
it turns
it doesn't stop turning
and all the blood doesn't stop running...
Where is it going all this spilled blood
murder's blood...war's blood'...
misery's blood...
and the blood of men tortured in prisons...
the blood of children calmly tortured by their papa
and their mama...
and the blood of men whose heads bleed
in padded cells
and the roofer's blood
when the roofer slips and falls from the roof
And the blood that comes and flows in great gushes
with the newborn... with the new baby...
the mother cries...the baby cries...
the blood flows... the earth turns
the earth doesn't stop turning
the blood doesn't stop flowing
Where's it all going all this spilled blood
blood of the blackjacked...of the humiliated...
of suicides...of firingsquad victims...
of the condemned...
and the blood of those that die just like that...
by accident
In the street a living being goes by with all his blood inside
suddenly there he is dead
and all his blood outside
and other living being make the blood disappear
they carry the body away
but it's stubborn the blood
and there where the dead one was
much later all black