“Merde, je ne veux pas vivre!”

Le Ventre de Ma Mere: Blaise Cendrars

 

My Mother’s Belly

 

It was my first residence

It was quite round

Often I imagine

What I must have been like…

 

My feet on your heart mama

My knees tight against your liver

My hand grasping the canal

That ended at your belly

 

My back twisted into a spiral

My ears filled my eyes empty

Tightly curled up

My head almost out of your body

 

My skull at your cervix

I delighted in your health

In the warmth of your blood

In papa’s embraces

 

Often a mongrel fire

Electrified my darkness

A shock to my skull relaxed me

And I kicked against your heart

 

The big muscle of your vagina

Tightened fiercely

Sadly I gave in

And you flooded me with your blood

 

My forehead is still dented

From my father’s thrusts

Why must one let himself be thus

Half-strangled?

 

If I could have opened my mouth

I would have bitten you

If I could have spoken then

I would have said:

 

Shit, I don’t want to live!

 

-Blaise Cendrars (trans. by Peter Hoida)