the streets have muscles
trees birds have grown
everything climbs everything flees

Only man remains
the storks have already migrated
only man is tiny
even his shadow has scared him away

Everything has the frown of a lion tamer
and sometimes I search in the past
my mother's belly
the burrow
where no democracy nor any torment
can put a demon on me

Everything must be musculature
impiety disguises itself as lucidity,

timidly I raise my hand to the world
I want to speak
I want to say: I am not strong
I tend to fall, I tend to cry.
I tend to be a man.