From: Superga is Waiting (1987)
Beware the Age of Thirty
that has toyed with a gun for months now
I fear the lace of the curtain
even the cabinet that opens silently
but most of all I fear the wolf
that lurks darkly
in my eyes at night
his claws scrape incessantly
on the walnut hatch of my brain
in vain I try to get him drunk
with gin and vodka
in the bank the bar the cinema
the sulphur of his breath
burns my face
I take a taxi home to hide away
and in the half light ghostly pale
I see the loathsome snout
painted with a sneer
in the driver's mirror.
Translated by John C. Davies
Page(s) 150-151
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