In her despiteous and shameless wickedness
She is, as ashes, grey or grey as dust.
And I am perishing from just her nearness,
From bonds that solidly connected us.
She is a coarse one, she is a prickly one,
She is a cold one – she is a snake.
With her repulsive scales she had a cruel fun:
She makes me constantly be sternly baked.
If only I can feel a sharpness of the sting!
She is such clumsy, dull, such still as beef,
She is such massive thing, she is such languid thing;
I haven’t access to her – she’s deadly deaf.
And she inflexibly with her repulsive rings
Always caresses me and strangles at all.
And this unreal thing, this black and awful thing,
This black and monstrous thing – is just my soul!