I have lived a short lifeNo time to fulfill all the good I had promised mankindPut my feet up on the table in front – yesPut my feet up with a bang on the table in front – yesOffend and run wild and then start all over again – yes yes yes I've been messing up things on a regular basisNo sooner had I found a good chance to mess up than I'd mess it all upNo sooner had the opportunity to get off scot-free presented itself than I'd miss itMy madness did come within reach of God's very temple –I would have gladly made myself a harmonicaOut of all the vaginas of the women I'd ever been withYet dirty I'm not "O if only I had a harmonicaIf only the rain had sufficed and I had my harmonicaI'd be just sitting down on my bum playing itI'd perch on the curb and play my harmonica" Everything is just fine as long as you've got someone to clear the tables for youEverything is just charming and sweet and like powder applied to the noseWhen her nose does not shine through the powder in questionMy wallet does not double as your walletAll the same we could still share a moment of joyAnd when my leg brushes against yours under the tableIt will be like my tongue caressing your brainsA peculiar sound born out of their union I used to be miserable and you rubbed baking soda into my miseryPissed was I and ill-fated and pissedAnd all set on just doing myself inAnd you gave me an enemaBlood earns you nothing at allGetting up every morning at five and going to work is what earns you all thingsWrestling with me in a cubicle is what earns you all things Above the Kivu brothers' restaurant as I'm crooning to you: "O if only I had a harmonicaIf only you were part of a harmonica and you were my harmonicaI would go in for playing harmonica hand over fistGo away someplace quiet I would and play my harmonica there" And now you are coming to me and confessing you've run out of doshHow come you have run out of dosh? Is this then a reason for you to cease showing respect?Have you ever known someone to live from their loving alone?I am the only one who's ever done such a thingThe only one who's been waiting for youErect and unshaven and angryAnd heavily vascularised One day I will make it to the restaurant next doorI will sit up plant myself on my knees and make it somehow to the restaurant next doorYour maniac lips will be scooping all the contents out of meI'll be dancing my way to your liver penetrate all the way to your gall bladderA vast peace-dance I'll make out of youSqueezing your frame from within holding you tightly and singing: "If only I had a harmonica OIf you were but a tiny harmonica and you were my harmonicaI'd be mad keen on playing the harmonicaI'd be playing my harmonica to distraction I would"
by Daniel Bănulescu (b. 1960)
