without father, without mother, without God or homeland either, without crib or coffin-cover, without kisses or a lover.
for the third day – without fussing. I have eaten next to nothing. My store of power are my years. I sell all my twenty years.
Perhaps, if no else will, the buyer will be the devil. With a pure heart – that’s a job: I may kill and I shall rob.
They’ll catch me, hang me high in blessed earth I shall lie, and poisonous grass will start to grow on my beautiful heart.