The poem
I have become very hairy all over my body. I'm afraid they'll start hunting me because of my fur.
My multicolored shirt has no meaning of love -- it looks like an air photo of a railway station.
At night my body is open and awake under the blanket, like eyes under the blindfold of someone to be shot.
Restless I shall wander about; hungry for life I'll die.
Yet I wanted to be calm, like a mound with all its cities destroyed, and tranquil, like a full cemetery.