Alle 55 Texte von Roger-Bôtan

Young Jerry who lived in the prairies Rode out every day to pluck cherries, So that now in those places You can see lots of faces Resembling each other and Jerry’s.

Quis monstrat mihi nunc suum timendum Distortumque malignitate vultum Quem credo esse cadaver insepultum Uno tempore pallidum et cruentum ? An quaedam Furia scelus pudendum Ulcisci iubeat me adhuc inultum ? An Fortuna animo in meo tumultum...

The streetlamp shines brightly outside, By night it outshines any light, But by day it’s no brighter Than the piss of a writer Who thinks that his writings are bright.

To show thy deep concern about my arse Thou gav’st me, my dear friend, my witty donnot, A precious gift – a chamber China vase With a slit-eyed dark lady painted on it. Didst thou foreknow the dun un-British beauty Would fascinate my senses?...

Los animales nunca duermen. Como un muro De piedra están velando al mundo oscuro. La cabeza escarpada de la vaca Cruje con cuernos lisos en la paja. La ha oprimido una pedregosa frente, Dividiendo dos pómulos arcaicos, Por eso sus...