Безродні захотіли стати всім Волоссям камінь загорнути І вкласти в руки мертвих матерів Навіки змучені обличчя їх дітей Обличчя їх дітей Бетонні щелепи Тепер будинком не стануть нікому... не стануть ніколи I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus With tigery stripes, and a face on it Round as the moon, to stare up I want to be looking at them when they come Picking among the dumb minerals, the roots I see them already — the pale, star-distance faces Now they are nothing, they are not even babies I imagine them without fathers or mothers, like the first gods They will wonder if I was important I should sugar and preserve my days like fruit! My mirror is clouding over — A few more breaths, and it will reflect nothing at all The flowers and the faces whiten to a sheet The flowers and the faces whiten to a sheet The flowers and the faces whiten to a sheet