Metamorfózis I. [English translation]

Our cradle was standing on ruins,

kins all around, nobody missing.

With teeth-concealing, cutesy smiles,

we looked on them giggling faces.

Impressed by the rough-and-tumble,

rushed to the flicks to see how to do it.

Daydreamed among window displays

of others' teasing opulence.

That ring of smoke, perfectly round,

we learned to blow all together.

Someone took it, and one by one

we jumped through it in a haze.

Weak is the motherly hand,

no-one protects you in a rainstorm.

Scattered away from mother's hand,

our claws rip into Life's flesh.

Cry as you want if we embrace you.

The taste of our words -- you won't feel it.

We were your sons when we parted,

now it's strangers who came back here.

Can't drink a drop of your vine -

glass would shatter from our wild mouths.

You, who bore us sufferingly

can't recognize us anymore!