Poem
Andriy Bondar
Fantasy
the extraterrestrials are the souls of dead african childrenwho pursue the europeans
taking away from them the remaining bits of reason
and common sense
avenge the world order
created in their image
place bombs in stairwells
scare them at night with flying saucers
and poltergeist
derail trans-european expresses
and cut off mountain climbers’ ropes
in other words play the way children do
and their unmotivated childlike cruelty
their otherworldly vindictiveness
smells of the savanna and of the sound of the drums
smells of the sweat of an african mother
who maybe gave birth to new children
and even does not recall the dead ones
and what else do they have left to do the little rascals
© Translation: 2004, Vitaly Chernetsky
FANTASY
© 2003, Andriy Bondar
From: Prymityvni formy vlasnosti
Publisher: LA “Piramida”, Lviv
From: Prymityvni formy vlasnosti
Publisher: LA “Piramida”, Lviv
Poems
Poems of Andriy Bondar
Close
Fantasy
the extraterrestrials are the souls of dead african childrenwho pursue the europeans
taking away from them the remaining bits of reason
and common sense
avenge the world order
created in their image
place bombs in stairwells
scare them at night with flying saucers
and poltergeist
derail trans-european expresses
and cut off mountain climbers’ ropes
in other words play the way children do
and their unmotivated childlike cruelty
their otherworldly vindictiveness
smells of the savanna and of the sound of the drums
smells of the sweat of an african mother
who maybe gave birth to new children
and even does not recall the dead ones
and what else do they have left to do the little rascals
© 2004, Vitaly Chernetsky
From: Prymityvni formy vlasnosti
From: Prymityvni formy vlasnosti
Fantasy
the extraterrestrials are the souls of dead african childrenwho pursue the europeans
taking away from them the remaining bits of reason
and common sense
avenge the world order
created in their image
place bombs in stairwells
scare them at night with flying saucers
and poltergeist
derail trans-european expresses
and cut off mountain climbers’ ropes
in other words play the way children do
and their unmotivated childlike cruelty
their otherworldly vindictiveness
smells of the savanna and of the sound of the drums
smells of the sweat of an african mother
who maybe gave birth to new children
and even does not recall the dead ones
and what else do they have left to do the little rascals
© 2004, Vitaly Chernetsky
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