Something hurts me here, on the side, do You see, my Lord?
Something swelling sticks outs, juts
out of contemplation, like a broken
finger, my soul grows
a long horn of misery.

Something hurts me here, on the side, do You see, my Lord?
Loneliness spawns an angle, a sharp protrusion, a spasm
like a long button-snake grows and emerges
from my back toward the streak of light, and curls on my chest
like a tail that must be cut off, hurry, my Lord,
now. Trim it off and throw it away.

Something hurts me here, on the side, do You see, my Lord?
Clothing cannot conceal it. My clumsy movements
only make it more ridiculous. Something hurts. In the streets
revelers dance and in the fields,
wondrous spring. Flowers. Women. Something hurts me here, on the side,
my Lord, aren’t you listening?