|I took a knife away from you and you shriek.|
I am kind, but you thought I was being unkind.
Then you will lie there and cry, you who have just arrived in this world of sorrow.
Make sure it does not prick you! The tip of the pen is so slender.
Ah! Why are you so fond of a thing which will give you pain?
Play with this piece of paper—that is harmless.
|Where is your ball? Where is your china cat? |
That little animal with the broken head?
Your mirror was free from the dust of desire.
As soon as your eyes opened, the spark of desire shone out.
It is hidden in the movement of your hands, in the way you see.
Like you, your desire is also new-born.
Your life is free of the prison of discretion.
Perhaps the secret of nature is manifest to your eyes.
|When you are angry with me about something, you shriek.|
What a sight! You are made happy with a piece of waste-paper!
In this habit, I am in harmony with you.
You are capricious; I am also capricious.
I am given to the joys of momentary pleasure; I shriek as well.
I am quickly moved to anger; I am quickly consoled.
My eyes are enchanted with all the beauty they see before them.
My foolishness is no less than yours.
Like you, I sometimes weep; and sometimes I laugh.
I appear to be a foolish adolescent, but I am also a baby!
Translated by: D.J. Matthews