Song In The Blood

There are great puddles of blood on the world

Where is it all going? all this spilled blood?

Is it the earth that drinks it and gets drunk?

Funny kind of drunkography then,

So wise,

So monotonous,

No,

The earth doesn’t get drunk

The earth doesn’t turn askew

It pushes its little car regularly, it’s four seasons,

Rain, snow, hail, fair weather,

Never is it drunk

It’s with difficulty it permits itself from time to time

An unhappy little volcano

It turns, the earth,

It turns with its trees, its gardens, its houses

It turns with its great pools of blood

And all living things turn with it and bleed

It doesn’t give a damn the earth

It turns

And all living things set up a howl,

It doesn’t give a damn,

It turns

It doesn’t stop turning

And the blood doesn’t stop running

Where’s it going all this spilled blood?

Murder’s blood, war’s blood, misery’s blood,

And the blood of men tortured in prisons,

And the blood of children calmly tortured by their papa and their mama

And the blood of men whose heads bleed in padded cells

And the roofers blood when the roofer slips and falls from the roof

And the blood that comes and flows in great gushes with the newborn

The mother cries,

The baby cries,

The blood flows

The earth turns

The earth doesn’t stop turning,

The blood doesn’t stop flowing

Where’s it going all this spilled blood?

Blood of the blackjacked,

Of the humiliated,

Of suicides

Of firing squad victims

Of the condemned

And the blood of those that die just like that

By accident

In the street a living being goes by with all his blood inside

Suddenly there he is, dead

And all his blood outside

And other living beings make the blood disappear

They carry the body away

But it’s stubborn the blood

And there where the dead one was,

Much later, all black,

A little blood still stretches

Coagulated blood,

Life’s rust, body’s rust

Blood curdled like milk,

Like milk when it turns,

When it turns like the earth,

Like the earth it turns with its milk,

With its cows,

With its living,

With its dead,

The earth that turns with its trees,

With it’s living beings, its houses

The earth that turns with marriages,

Burials,

Shells,

Regiments,

The earth that turns and turns and turns

With its great streams of blood.