Tonight I hate the world,
Tonight,
I lay down my weapons:
wheedling charm and wiles,
passion and morality,
ardour and indignation.
Tonight,
I revoke my pleasures,
and don the flimsy garb of indifference:
the armor of putrid hate.
Exhibitionist of my rank nakedness.
Tonight,
I surrender bliss.
And forego the warmth,
of a mother.
Or a lover.
Tonight,
I shall wallow,
in my own blood,
drink of my own cup,
and die of my own sin.
Tonight,
I shall consume -
my self.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem