Michael Coy Poet Couplet

Sonorous Insult

(after Robert Desnos)
 
I spit in the eye 
of the father of the bride 
of the blacksmith who made the axe 
with which the lumberjacks 
cut down the big old oak 
with a hundred lusty strokes 
and which they split in half 
and from which the bed was carved 
(with a swag of fruit and leaves) 
in which the fellow was conceived 
who became the great-grandfather 
of the guy with the massage parlor 
where, provocatively clad, 
your mother met your dad.

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Darren White March 21, 2017 at 5:06 AM Maudit, right? OOoooohhh, I love this translation of that small poem! And you even made it into couplets :) And although, for the sake of rhyme, you had to deviate, it's still SO close to the meaning of the original. Glorious. Those lusty strokes are brilliant :) (And no, I didn't know the poem, I looked it up) Michael Coy March 21, 2017 at 9:40 AM The incredible thing is, you FOUND it!