Sleep little child,
little child, go to sleep
don’t budge
if your heart conks out
The State’ll use it
to keep its wheels turning
If your veins are slit,
don’t bleed out.
The State’s an engineer,
it needs blood
to pour the concrete
of death
Sleep little child,
little child, go to sleep
don’t beat yourself up
that’s why the cops have jobs
go on and sleep now,
don’t worry,
Boulòs’ll open another store, tomorrow
if I win the lottery,
I’ll buy you a dream.
Sleep little child,
little child, go to sleep
little child, go to sleep
when Mama comes home,
she’ll bring you a real country.
Copyright © Jean D’Amérique. Translation © 2022 by Nathan H. Dize. All rights reserved.