Condemnation of Flatulence (WG 11)

To-day we have a naming of farts. Yesterday,

the soil was breached by crokus. And to-morrow morning,

we shall be pampered by the scent of lilacs. But to-day,

to-day we have a naming of farts.

Tears glisten like white opals upon everybody's faces,

And to-day, we have a naming of farts.

This is what we call silent and deadly. It emerges unnoticed,

catching even the most vigilant off guard, when it draws closer

and preys upon their unsuspecting nostrils. And this

is the wet sort, which often leaves stains in your undergarments.

The blooms of Spring have enriched the air with aromas,

but to-day, someone has stains in his undergarments.

This is the devious little toot of a lady, distinguished by

low audibility and the stench to choke a donkey. And

please do not smell her finger. You can do it quite

easy if you keep some distance. The blossom

is alluringly appealing to the eye, but by God,

please do not be deceived and smell her finger.

And this is the loud rejection from the bowels. The purpose

of this is to draw attention, as it has no scent. We see him

rocking rapidly backwards and forwards; we call this

breaking the wind. And rapidly backwards and forwards

the blooms sway until their stalks are snapped.

They call this broken by the wind.

They call this broken by the wind: it is perfectly easy

if you have any strength in the rump: like a bolt,

and the breach, and the rocking motion, the art of flatulence,

just don't scratch and smell the finger; and the blooms

sway until their resilient stalks are snapped,

for to-day, we have naming of farts.