***
We dance as in the tribe of Cabiri
with maximum stridency and
along with us dance the sick
and blind, disabled and half-witted
incompletely conceived and crippled
cannibals that appeared and disappeared ‒
the tools, the weapons and the traitors,
the Tirtans, the gypsies, the time.
Fire! Shoot at us, you barbarians.
We surrender, we kill ourselves,
we succumb to the caterpillar
tracks. We gyrate, we don’t know
where we go, dry us up we lie down
in the pit moaning in rut.
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