Autopsicografia [English translation]

The poet is a feigner

He feigns so completely

That he comes to feign the pain

Of the pain that he truly feels.

And those who read what he may write,

Upon reading his pain feel all too well,

Not the two pains that he has,

But rather only those pains that they do not have.

And it is that way on the circular tracks,

It wheels round, to entertain reason,

That wound-up train

That calls itself the heart.