Father, see:
The day lies stretched at the tent
Like a dying elephant with his feet to the sky.
And the flamingos are burning in the river, where toward us
Oxen swim.
Thirteen oxen, like my years.
Thirteen oxen, with the monkey merchant at their head,
To buy your faithful daughter.

Father, hear:
The oxen toll with their heavy bells.
And the monkey merchant at their head
Wants to plow with them
The flowerbeds of my body.

The dead monkeys will not forgive him.
The living ones
Will curse him from the trees.