The Fury of Cocks: a Translation

I had heard a couple of years ago about a Chinese poet who took other works, put them through Google translate, and made them her own. Though I would not call this a “scholarly journey” by any means, the results made me laugh. This is a side-by-side comparison, line by line.

 

 

 

Fury of Cocks: Linguistic Journey by Kira Yates

English to Spanish, Spanish to Polish, Polish to Swahili, Swahili to Arabic, Arabic to Gaelic, Gaelic to Norwegian, Norwegian to Zulu, Zulu to Turkish, and Turkish to English

The Fury of Cocks by Anne Sexton There they were drooping over the breakfast plates, angel-like, folding in their sad wing, animal sad, and only the night before there they were playing the banjo. Once more the day's light comes with its immense sun, its mother trucks, its engines of amputation. Whereas last night, the cock knew its way home, as stiff as a hammer, battering in with all its awful power. That theater. Today it is tender, a small bird, as soft as a baby's hand. She is the house. He is the steeple. When they fuck they are God. When they break away they are God. When they snore they are God. In the morning they butter toast. They don't say much. They are still God. All the cocks of the world are God, blooming, blooming, blooming into the sweet blood of woman.

anger Cocks by Kira Yates old reduced breakfast dishes, like angels, His own wings sad sad animals and only at night she is Play the banjo. The day is coming Sun, The mother of trucks Decision engine. Yesterday, during the night, Dick knew the way home As hard as a stone as the force of evil. In the stadium. As is currently preferred, birds, Soft as a child's arm. At home. One tower. If prostitution. When separated from God. Although snoring God. Morning and butter beans. They did not say much. Stay with God. Taps all over the world, which is Bloom, flower Women's sweet blood.