Irish/Celtic/Poet Hud

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Echoes of faint sounds.
Drilling silently through my mind as thousands of bees swimming round and round in a restricted compound.
Were these words not my own or just lyrics on a trumpeting saxophone.
Blood pressure is too high as this little flea tries to hide in the corners of my mind.
Dark dogs of suggestion are giving me indigestion.
Stewing my brain in fine wine, will suit me fine.
Butterflies flapping their wings in the outer casing of my head making sure that I'm completely dead in my shed.

Copyright HUD 2004-2012 Poet/Philosopher.


Des echos de sons faibles.......
Ils penetrent silencieusement mon esprit
Tels des milliers d'abeilles tournoyant dans un espace clos.
Etaient-ils ces mots miens ou juste des poemes lyriques
Accompagnes d'un saxophone senore?
La tension du sang devient trop eleve
Quand cette petite puce essaie de se cacher
Dans les recoins de mon esprit.
Les chiens sombres des suggestion me donnent de l'indigestion.
La cuisson a' l'etouffee de mon cerveau dans un vin de qualite
Me convient bien.
Des papillons battant leurs ailes
S'agitent dans l'enveloppe exterieure de ma tete.
Voulant s'assurer que je suis completement mort
Dans mon abri.

Translated into French by Athanase Vantchev de Thracy

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