Oh, my face is as stupid as undergrowth
I prefer the chirping of crickets to
the song of birds
Eternity to time
Wardrobes fall to pieces as I pass
Each night a man that died laughing
Sits at my table
The phantom of liberty visits me at dawn
I knock at the windows of my dreams
Absent hands seem pale under the pillow
I read the sunday papers (no comment)
What happiness! I shall die being uncorked
Like a bottle of champagne
Translated by Philip West
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem