Marc Chagall
The Birth
Baby Song
From the private ease of Mother’s womb
I fall in to the lighted room.
Why don’t they simply put me back
Where it is warm and wet and black?
But one thing follows on another.
Things were different inside Mother.
Padded and jolly I would ride.
The perfect comfort of her inside.
They tuck me in a rustling bed
--I lie there, raging, small, and red.
I may sleep soon, I may forget,
But I won’t forget that I regret.
A rain of blood poured round her womb,
But all time roars outside this room.
~ Thom Gunn ~
From the private ease of Mother’s womb
I fall in to the lighted room.
Why don’t they simply put me back
Where it is warm and wet and black?
But one thing follows on another.
Things were different inside Mother.
Padded and jolly I would ride.
The perfect comfort of her inside.
They tuck me in a rustling bed
--I lie there, raging, small, and red.
I may sleep soon, I may forget,
But I won’t forget that I regret.
A rain of blood poured round her womb,
But all time roars outside this room.
~ Thom Gunn ~
