In a sticky earth full of snails
I want to dig a deep pit by myself,
Where I could spread my old bones at leisure
And sleep in the oblivion like a shark in a wave.
I hate testaments and I hate tombs,
Instead of begging for a tear from the world,
Alive , I'd rather like inviting crows
So they bleed all the bits of my filthy carcass.
Oh, worm! Black earless, eyeless companions,
Look at that free and happy dead coming to you,
Live philosophers, sons of decay,
Through my ruin, please remorselessly go,
And tell me if there's still any torture left
For this old body without soul & dead among the dead!