On the twenty-fifth of june
they told the embittered man
"Now if you want you can cut
the oleanders in your yard"
On the twenty-fifth of june
they told the embittered man
Paint a cross on the door
and write your name below
because hemlock and nettles
will spring from your side
and quick-lime splinters
will gnaw at your shoes
It will be a dark night
in the magnetic mountains
where the water oxen
drink from the reeds, dreaming
Ask for lights and bells
Learn to cross your hands
and to savour the chilly air
of metal and boulders
because within two months
you will lie in your grave