Once I metamorphose to worms,
this poem will perhaps endure –
And you will read this mail that turns
up following a great detour.
and you will not know my looks, surely,
if I had lovers and a head of hair,
if I became an old fart prematurely,
if I went out enough for some fresh air.
Only this poem with its lines fourteen.
What could two strangers want from each other?!
Poets intrude even when dead. “How mean –
As if poems ever brightened our lot!!!”
Cantankerous successor! Don’t bother!
You’ll carry me onwards, like it or not.
--translated by Péter Papolczy
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