translated by Holly Taylor

In all the lands and in all the countries and in all the houses and throughout the
ages and all the kisses and tables and funerals and beneath the illuminations and
behind curtains and under quilts and hiding behind disguises and drinking
champagne and within songs and inside cars and beneath flashing
advertisements and on rooftops and out on balconies and within tents and
breaking into laughter and breaking into fights and breaking the law and above
the people and spitting on blood lines and discovering solutions and sharing
progress and scorched words and above the beds and on the lips of the lethargy
and within carriages and constructing palaces and on top of carpets and in schools and in
ships and clutching rackets and showing limits, hand-in-hand,
triumphant singing and severed heads and in all the alleys and in all the town
squares, during the day and night, among velvet, the pain is bedecked and with a
new saw, inviting promises, in the fresh mud, illuminating the carcasses, with the
heat and the cold, in the fresh mud, and with a new saw, treading with glory, and
in all the hideouts, summoning grief, and beyond the woods and beyond sorrows
and beyond winters

Always,

always

the murderers

celebrate.

      The Land of Paradoxical Things, To Kendri editions, 2014