C sharp minor enters the chambers
of the ear like a coffin en-
ters the food chain of the earth
grass grows in its trace as hair
erupts from a sound in the ear
no chance it clangs by the night
C sharp sleeping under earwax is
freed by the minor who
tolls the bells petrified I cannot tell
who looks into the mirror of the sound
my voice can't you hear who limps behind you
through the waxy maze of the ear chambers
who plays harmonica in the harmony of
a Venetian gondola the eardrum is
beaten and torn by the sting of the bow
and as blood follows a penetration
your voice flows my voice the joyous one
until I am received and buried by Alma
mater the ‘joyous one' caused a
blackout the dump of my memory stinks
who is dead today I read on page
seventy in the outside thunder and rain inside
the wooden cabin we arrived at the
end of our tour the black beady eye
of the animal glows unwittingly
it shows he is ready sounds
the minor in the concha a black pearl
a C sharp black springs up glowing
in the unfinished concluding piece

Translated by Zoltán Lengyel