Among the thin-legged, liquid blood,
laboriously turning a bull's neck,
on a well-fed holiday to obese health
people made of meat, I cry loudly!
To wind the earth with a frantic dance,
boring, like a can of canned food,
let's catch spring butterflies
a network of unnecessary nerves!
And on sharp stones, like the eyes of speakers,
handsome fathers of healthy volumes,
dragging the faces of smart psychiatrists
and throw them behind the bars of insane asylums!
And ourselves through the city, withered like Onania,
with a crowd of yellow-faced lanterns, like eunuchs,
hungry females feed desires,
handsome males overgrown with wool!