Garbus [English translation]

The hunchback is dying quite beneficially:

In a good weather and an Indian summer.

Hunchbacked life had he truly,

And his death is truly hunchbacked.

He is dying on the road, in fogs’ envelope,

As if a complicated fairy tale judging,

While he did nothing in this life,

Except his hump carrying around and carrying.

With this hump he begged and danced,

With this hump he mused and did dream.

He put him to sleep upon his back,

With his blood he watered it and did feed.

And now the death enriches himself,

Into his darkness by now he extended the neck,

Only the hump still hunches,

Secretly lives and gets fat.

He did outlive this camel of his

By a moment equal to his fatness,

The deceased is seeing the darkness,

And he — these sunbathed butterflies.

And to the dead porter

He says, threatening with his log:

”What does your stubbornness mean,

That you have laid across like a block?

Did you lose in the fog your knees?

Did you through sleep crush your legs?

Why did you take me piggy back,

To lose your way half the way?

Why did you stick your bean on the shadow?

I barely in your shoulders have place enough!

I am curious, you eternal deadbeat,

Where to will you carry me now?”