My head is immense
I have a toad's eyes
A horn stands on the nape of my neck
But a magical music surges
What tree exhales such rare
Dark beauty, how can you spring
from a toad's wallow? How can you
flow from lonely ugliness?
You who took on, you think
that the voice of my instrument
buys my freedom, that I am fluidity, thought
No, there is nothing in me
but a pool of sadness.