(The poet of evil)
Now you know my secrets
said the man with harlequin face
that was made that way by a magic marker.
The people pluck their fingers
from their ears and blow
their children's noses like bassoons.
It was a play in five moments
A clown juggled fruit
The intermission was postponed
Why do you continue about
your parents' parenting, they say,
and such unmouthable truths?
You are the selfishest poet
there ever was, they say,
and that is saying something.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem