A keresés eredménye

In avenue de Neuilly

In
There’s a butcher’s shop,
And when I go to the city
I always pass it by.
 
The big open window
Shines of such a red blood,
On white marble plates
Smokes freshly butchered meat.
 
Today, was hanging on that glass door
A heart, of a calf I think,
Wrapped up in embossed paper
It seemed to me it was shaking in the cold.
 
Then my quick thoughts dashed
To the old marketplace on ,
Where rows of bright windows
Are beheld by women and children.
 
There is hanged in the window of the bookshop
A small book in a thin cover.
It is a torn-out heart
Dangling there to its hook.