Безродні захотіли стати всім
Волоссям камінь загорнути
І вкласти в руки мертвих матерів
Навіки змучені обличчя їх дітей
Обличчя їх дітей
Бетонні щелепи
Тепер будинком не стануть нікому... не стануть ніколи
I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus
With tigery stripes, and a face on it
Round as the moon, to stare up
I want to be looking at them when they come
Picking among the dumb minerals, the roots
I see them already — the pale, star-distance faces
Now they are nothing, they are not even babies
I imagine them without fathers or mothers, like the first gods
They will wonder if I was important
I should sugar and preserve my days like fruit!
My mirror is clouding over —
A few more breaths, and it will reflect nothing at all
The flowers and the faces whiten to a sheet
The flowers and the faces whiten to a sheet
The flowers and the faces whiten to a sheet
