My bumpy road to sexual maturity was paved with the death of communist dictators.
My first sexual experience coincided with the death of Mao Zedong. I was bitten by
a girl called Diana in nursery school. My voice broke when Tito died, and I first came
when Brezhnev went. For three days there was nothing but classical music on the radio,
which I thought was overdoing it, some schools even closed. Then for a long time,
nothing. As an experiment, I took a girl to the movies, but the film was too good, and
I got cramps in my hand. Events accelerated in high school. It was only a couple
of months between the first kiss and the first frantic fumbling. Following Andropov,
Chernenko also checked out. A couple more weeks, and it was Enver's turn, but I'd
rather not go into that. I first found out about the G spot when Ceausescu was
executed. Kim Il Sung cast new light on my broadening horizons, luckily, the charges
were dropped. Fidel...
translated by Judith Sonnabend
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wish there were more of Peter Zilahy's poems available to read.