I wouldn't want to die (Je voudrais pas crever)
Before having known
The black mexican dogs
Who sleep without dreaming
The butt-naked monkeys
Gobbling up tropics
The silver spiders in
Webs riddled with bubbles
I wouldn't want to die
Not knowing if the moon
Behind its fake nickel look
Has a sharper side
If the sun is cold
If the four seasons
Are really only four
Not having tried
To wear a dress
On the boulevards
Not having peeped
Through a sewer peephole
Not having put my dick
Inside weirdo corners
I wouldn't want to end
Without experiencing leprosy
Or the seven diseases
One catches over there
Neither the good nor the bad
Would cause me some sorrow
If if if I knew that
I would get it firsthand
And there iz also
Everything I know
Everything I like
That I know that I like
The green bottom of the sea
Where the seaweeds waltz
On the rippled sand
The burnt grass in June
The crackling earth
The smell of conifers
And the kisses of the one
She's this and she's that
The belle here she comes
My bearcub, Ursula
I wouldn't want to die
Before having used up
Her mouth with my mouth
Her body with my hands
The rest with my eyes
I say no more one should
Remain polite
[...] Read more
poem by Boris Vian
Added by Poetry Lover
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