Emails mit einem Freund, der von seinem Leben im Kongo erzaehlt, ueber Laendergrenzen schiebend lese ich im Augenwinkel diese Zeilen: “The trade of war is over”. Eine schoene Utopie, vielleicht nicht aus den Augen zu verlieren in diesen Zeiten. Schwerter zu “whipped-cream pastries”! Und Gras fuer die Loewen!
by STANLEY MOSS
The trade of war is over, there are no more battles,
but simple murder is still in.
The No God, Time, creeps his way,
universe after universe, like a great snapping turtle
opening its mouth wagging its tongue
to look like a worm or leech
so deceived hungry fish, every living thing
swims in to feed. Quarks long for dark holes,
atoms butter up molecules, protons do unto neutrons
what they would have neutrons do unto them.
The trade of war has been over so long,
the meaning of war in the O.E.D. is now “nonsense.”
In the Russian Efron Encyclopedia,
war, voina, means “dog shit”;
in the Littré, guerre is “a verse form, obsolete”;
in Germany, Krieg has become “a whipped-cream pastry”;
Sea of Words, the Chinese dictionary,
has war, zhan zheng, as “making love in public,”
while war in Arabic and Hebrew, with the same
Semitic throat, harb and milchamah, is defined
as “anything our distant grandfathers ate
we no longer find tempting—like the eyes of sheep.”
And lions eat grass.
(find it here)