Why does the pickle never sing?

The question that our title 
has cast in deathless bronze 
is painful yet so vital, 
we owe it a response. 

If our little green friend 
won't sing, croon, lilt or chant, 
it's clear that, Heaven forfend, 
it most probably can't. 

But what if evil stars 
trample its throat? If divine 
airs die in air-tight jars, 
engulfed by teary brine? 

Meanwhile, time flies, alas 
first sunshine, then rains trickle, 
and still we callously pass 
by many a pained pickle. 

Konstanty Ildefons Gałczyński, 1953
[Translated by S. Barańczak and C. Cavanagh]

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4 Responses to Why does the pickle never sing?

  1. Ian Moone says:

    This is an old time wit something before my time but the title is just the perfect question

  2. This is cool! I adore the last stanza! Thank you for sharing!

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