In the next birth
I shall take birth as a bastard.
You should also take birth as one.
Then let’s meet at an ownerless shack of the marketplace
just you and I, freely.

In that birth
the moment I drop from my mother’s womb
I shall stamp on that woman’s chest
then emerge sprouting wings.
Without drinking a drop of my mother’s milk
I shall fly out the house’s narrow door.

I shall grow up as a bazaar dog
walking alone in any direction I choose
none feeding me a morsel of rice,
none looking at me with loving eyes.
I would like to live alone.
Then let us meet.

You should also grow up an orphan like me.
The moment she gives birth to you
let your mother die
before feeding you a drop of milk;
let none love you, and
you should also love none.
Don’t eat begging even a grain of rice,
don’t eat too what others offer you.
You should live—
                                  grabbing
                                  snatching
digging from mouths of others
then we’ll meet, you and I.

Let us only meet
as the price of this birth
freely, even if only for a few moments,
let us embrace
for a moment without fear.