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Chapin Harry Miscellaneous The Shortest Story I am born today, the sun burns its promise in my eyes; Mama strikes me and I draw a breath and cry. Above me a cloud softly tumbles through the sky; I am glad to be alive. It is me seventh day, I taste the hunger and I cry; my brother and sister cling to Mama's side. She squeezes her breast, but it has nothing to provide; someone weeps, I fall asleep. It is twenty days today, Mama does not hold me anymore; I open my mouth but I am too weak to cry. Above me a bird slowly crawls across the sky; why is there nothing now to do but die? |
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