From: Songs of The Bride, Satyres.
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The Bride and the Monkey
Listen, now you will hear one of her songs:
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[Bruid]
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The monkey who high in the sky

jumps from branch to branch

is my totem
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The monkey who low on the ground

Screeches in groups

Marches forward

On a smooth path

is my tabou
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The monkey who slowly and painfully

Stands upright

After a millions of years

Is my totem
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The monkey who just like man

suddenly engages in monkey business

is my tabou
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The monkey imprisoned by us

Rocketed into space

Speechless and silent

Who got his first impression

Ahead of us

That monkey is my example, my totem
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The monkey existing in darwinian space

Who built himself a cage

Whose experience comes always too late

Whose aha! is always second rate

That monkey is tabou.
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The monkey who sees himself in the mirror

Laughs at his own tricks

And refuses to resemble man

I join in his laughter

He is my totem

I resemble him, gladly.
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The monkey wearing trousers

And sporting a hat

Who looks ceremonial

When seeing himself

In the mirror

Who teaches me nothing

Nor amuses me

That monkey is tabou.
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One I gladly thrust

Back into the shadows,

The other sits on my shoulder as a companion

And I might say: I follow you, Monkey God! (Hanuman)

Off we go to the fair

First to the labyrinth with the mirrors

Which must be shattered before we exit.

Off to the Ferris wheel!

Off to the shooting gallery

Where we carefully aim

Right through the target

Held before us

At the bulls eye behind.
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The Prize we receive

Cannot console us,

And we continue

on our way

to superb enjoyment

and inexpressible sorrow.
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