The feast arrived later than usual,
Inscriptions were the dinner of rides,
One necklace sustained everything,
One loud locust became a stung beast.
With mummy an onion had the crunch
Of lazy afternoons, with nectar in the neck.
One scorpion dived to be a nomad
Of lateness and times of error.
The feasts arrived with mummy who erred
So many times that sand erased us
With biting done to the tambourine,
Illustrations were rife and stagnant.
My immense donkey was like a skin too late
In the way of the donkeys of sin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem