***
The tongue hangs me from this country
without idols, without gods, without God
I perfectly hear her sluttish speaking,
her respiration succumbing doubling herself
in the form of moans and hanging colouring
the evil shadow of the Devil. Therefore
I’m a hobo, the gendarmes see me in a tree
or on the edge of the roof of a tower building
I move and I knock at the doors there’s no one
by me but from each door whereat I knock
gushes a Hun who springs at me and grabs
me by the throat. I’m just like the prayer
in the deep forest.
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