She revealed to someone acquainted with death,
an artist of tropical skill,
'Everything I am
and know
and do
is because of others' desire.
They turn me into something
Higher than what I am.'
'What you are asking, ' he said,
'is to be told just what you are.
You're a bag of bones,
a vampire'
and, what meant in 1850,
un valet de chair baiser.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem