I went with Zdzich to the woods,
To take wood from the beheaded yet
Last year's trees. At any point
You could hear the crying cry.
They lamented foxes or any bird
(I do not know, though I have always lived in the countryside).
Not important.
The neighbour was cutting wood bodies with a saw, and I was
I felt a tumultuous breakdown.
(irrational enough) request to call
from a thick... boy who's not there,
Because how and why would it be,
a fewer years old in a suit, a vest,
male symptoms with a light face,
handles, white eyes.
– come – I began to repeat in my mind, knowing,
I'll never be called like this myself,
Come on, let's play the gift game.
The white you share will be for me
the essence of black art.
But the drawing will be made on the surface of copper,
I keep in me!
