bureaucracy is the mother.
do you know who the father is?
caterpillars count statistics:
there’s shortage of numbers
you used to mask war mysteries
and the drudgery of mental institutions:
the healthy are sick, the sick, healthy:
turn her around, twist her
for lindjo dance and for mogadishu:
the black princess comes down
and opens her dress.
guests and visitors are on their way out.
the immense crowd starts to chant:
how much of this? how much beyond sight?
you hennaed your little belly hair
and laughed at vulgarities,
at the pack of dogs.
they howled, kept jumping over corpses:
one is a sheep-dog, the other a werewolf.
the pack is hungry,
the pack is thirsty,
attacks the blood flow,
spreads out the front-line
along the railroad track, then toward the marble.
do you know who could bring that to a halt?
do you know who the father is, the narrator, the falsifier?
the mother is the father.
Translated by Mario Susko