Although this poem was first drafted in English, given Brexit it would not be appropriate to put that language first. Thus here, le français seguido de una versión en español and then the original English. As ever, these are versions, not translations. As a sailboat must respond to the force and direction of the wind, I allow these texts to respond to the demands and possibilities of each particular language. (And then there is also the fact that working on the French and Spanish versions invariably leads to large changes in the English.)

I might note further that this poem—drafted after eating more Brussels sprouts than my aging intestines could efficiently process—is meant, above all, in fun. In fact, my intuition is that—given the environmental havoc we are wreaking and other problems that capitalism and “advanced” technology continue to create—we need more government rather than less.

Français

Pas un autre poème sur la politique ou les légumes!

Et ce jour-là, j’ai été collé au lit,

Des choux de Bruxelles, les tuyaux endoloris,

Pendant que ces légumes, sans autres soucis,

S’amusaient à discuter une trêve ou sortie.

Des bouffées de gaz j’ai senti échapper,

Et faire bouger les membres m’a un peu soulagé.

Mais ne serions-nous pas tous en meilleure santé

Si les choux européens pouvaient prendre congé ?

Español

¡No otro poema sobre política o verduras!

Y este fue el día que enfermo yací,

coles impolíticas de Bruselas en mí.

Y cómo sufrían mis queridas entrañas,

mientras se discutía una tregua o retirada.

Sentí fugas gaseosas de una zona escapar

y estirar los miembros me alivió un poco.

Pero ¿no nos sentiríamos más sanos todos

si coles europeas tuvieran menos peso?

English

Not another poem about politics or vegetables!

And this was the day that sick I lay:

By sprouts from Brussels my stomach seized.

And though much they debated mid sorry me;

On peaceful withdrawal they could not agree.

Some seepage gaseous of course there was

As this or that member I tried to stretch out.

But O how free we all might be,

If European cabbages had less clout!

— Poem(s) and artwork by William Eaton.