It is all that I have forgotten, the rubble, the dross,
that actually embodies reality.
The things and the deeds my teeth were unable to gnaw,
the knives unable to slice, from these
products of forgetting
which weary claws ever lift from the acid
bath of memory
and cast disgustedly outside
a new world might be embodied.

Ditches and pits, ditches and pits,
idle savagery nestling among delicate
morsels of calf and thigh
among unpaired breasts, of differing sizes
and colours, ditches and pits,
I swathe my aged body in black lace
and forgetting it for eternity, I give it rebirth.

Translation: 2011, Alistair Ian Blyth