OH, HOW I WANT TO . . .

Oh, how I want to tread on my shadow -

To free myself!

To be able to walk down the streets

With motley girls.

To smile to the beggar

And show him torn pockets.

To count the clouds

And name them

Until my neck gets stiff

And then peer down

And try to pick out

Which ants are females

And which are males.

To pad around the dustbins

And guess by the smell

What the folk have had for dinner.

Split

To sit down in an airy place,

Straight on the ground,

Without having to fear of my clothes.

To catch the stinging mosquitoes

in my mouth.

After that to spit them upwards

While the moon shows me again -

You can't live without a shadow.

In the end to get asleep

And have a dream

About how tomorrow

The sun brings back my shadow.