The mirrors
these frozen waters of the real
are the amused and full of sarcasm
witnesses of our perpetual change
we are looking involuntarily
every one of us in our own mirror
today tomorrow over a hundred years
and we don’t notice the flat nose the slanting brow
the blunt and hairy face
we don’t know that our walking is shambling and hunched
we don’t know that we look our fellows for louses
in the thick fur soiled with sentiments
which cover their bodies
we are wistfully glancing at the stars
while every tree irresistibly attracts us and we laugh
but even worse is the fact that every attempt of speaking
degenerates into grimaces twists buffooneries
imitations and even less than this
but the imitations of some long ago
lost imitations

at dawn I’ll leave shrieking hunched
to look for a cave to sleep
and to notch my obsessions.