World War COVID Guerre mondiale: From WeaponWorld to PeaceWorld; Learner, begin... De la terre en armes au monde paisible ; Apprenti, débute
We live on WeaponWorld. Why not PeaceWorld? How would that work? What should we expect? Has that transition been discussed to your satisfaction, or was it suppressed?
I'm slopping a ladle full of forbidden PeaceWorld Mulligan Stew onto your WeaponWorld prison zinc tray. Next!
Nous habitons la terre en armes. Pourquoi pas au monde paisible ? Comment cela marcherait-il ? Cette transition t'a-t-elle été discutée de façon satisfaisante ou supprimée ?
Je te verse une louchée interdite de Ragout Mulligan du monde paisible sur ton zinc pénitentiaire de la terre en armes. Au suivant !
World War COVID Guerre mondiale: From WeaponWorld to PeaceWorld; Learner, begin... De la terre en armes au monde paisible ; Apprenti, débute
Ballad of the Hanged - Ballade des pendus, by François Villon
https://www.buzzsprout.com/1106222/13366779
LEARNER full text (2024)
PeaceWorld or death
https://www.buzzsprout.com/1106222/13381922
APPRENTI texte integral (2024)
Le monde paisible ou la mort
WORLD WAR COVID
Poems, theirs and mine
Ballad of the Hanged, Ballade des pendus, by Francois Villon, 1431 - ?
Brother humans who after us subsist,
Harden not your heart against us,
If pity you took pity on poor folk like us,
God might more likely grant you pardon.
You see us strung up here, five, six:
When our overstuffed flesh
Is since devoured and rotted,
And our bones turn to powder and ash.
No-one is laughing at our affliction,
But pray God all would forgive us!
We brothers beg you not to hold us in disdain
Though by Justice we’ve been slain.
Anyhow, you must ascertain
That all men do not good sense retain.
Forgive us, we are well nigh on
To the Virgin Mary’s Son;
May His grace not parch for us,
Spare us hell’s lightning.
We are dead, no soul vex us;
But pray God all would forgive us!
Rain has streaked and washed us,
Sun's blackened and dried;
Magpies and crows have caved in our eyes,
Plucked our beard and brows.
Never no more may we sit still;
But twisted this way that by the wind,
Spun nonstop by their carry,
More fowl-pecked than a thimble.
Don’t you ever join our fraternity;
But pray God all would forgive us!
Prince Jheeheesus; master over all,
Guard lest Hell master us:
Neither lest we deal nor settle up.
Man, this here’s no joke,
But pray God all would forgive us!
IN FRENCH
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