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У меня в руке кусочки кожи.

Но я не хочу пить.

В последний день года

головы детей отрываются от тела и летают.

Ящерица становится собакой.

Рыба становится змеей.

Желтый становится зеленым,

красный становится синим,

но ты, ты больше не меняешься.

I have pieces of skin in my hand.

But I am not thirsty.

On the last day of the year,

the heads of children are cut off from their bodies

and fly away.

A lizard turns into dog.

A fish into a snake.

Yellow turns green, red turns blue.

But you, you haven’t changed at all.


Окно оставалось открытым,

Воздушный шар входит в квартиру.

На самом деле, это голова с странным лицом,

она сидит у тебя на шее.

Это уже не лицо, это листок бумаги,

на котором ты рисуешь свое лицо

с отрубленной рукой.

The window was left open

a balloon comes in the apartment.

In fact, it’s a head with strange face,

it lands on your neck.

This is no longer a face, it is a piece of paper

on which you draw your own face

with a cut off hand.


Ivan de Monbrison is a poet, writer and artist living in Paris born in 1969. He studied languages there after high school, not with great success. Ivan has autistic and schizophrenic tendencies that he has been trying to cope with through art, in the past twenty years of his life. His writing and art reflect maybe also the feeling of the decadence of today's society, centered on its own vacuity and its lack of real purpose. He has been published in literary magazines globally.

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