From the section TRANSLATIONS

I speak now. When it becomes apparent at some point, I feel ill at ease.

I do not remember dates and events, gestures,

maxims, deals… It takes time

Typically not reckonable by verse. And again, I often

pray for it to exist, to spread all over the imposed bitterness.

There, I forgot the Spanish expression for happiness

and the equivalent to our word — silence. I keep forgetting

spy novels’ plots: you may easily plant

different twists and turns on me. In a flash, I cannot remember what mint,

tea or rice taste like. I keep forgetting how many times I have dreamt

insects walking over my bedclothes. (Could it be that I place fewer and fewer

things into my memory?) That was how I even forgot the way

Otto Weininger had chosen to overcome life.

The existence of oblivion, however, makes daily continuance easier.

With such oblivion, I meet requirements for staying in reality;

through recollection, already, I recreate poetry.

From one case to another — I rejoice in oblivion.

I speak now. When it becomes apparent at some point, I feel ill at ease.

I do not remember dates and events, gestures,

maxims, deals… It takes time

Typically not reckonable by verse. And again, I often

pray for it to exist, to spread all over the imposed bitterness.

There, I forgot the Spanish expression for happiness

and the equivalent to our word — silence. I keep forgetting

spy novels’ plots: you may easily plant

different twists and turns on me. In a flash, I cannot remember what mint,

tea or rice taste like. I keep forgetting how many times I have dreamt

insects walking over my bedclothes. (Could it be that I place fewer and fewer

things into my memory?) That was how I even forgot the way

Otto Weininger had chosen to overcome life.

The existence of oblivion, however, makes daily continuance easier.

With such oblivion, I meet requirements for staying in reality;

through recollection, already, I recreate poetry.

From one case to another — I rejoice in oblivion.

I speak now. When it becomes apparent at some point, I feel ill at ease.

I do not remember dates and events, gestures,

maxims, deals… It takes time

Typically not reckonable by verse. And again, I often

pray for it to exist, to spread all over the imposed bitterness.

There, I forgot the Spanish expression for happiness

and the equivalent to our word — silence. I keep forgetting

spy novels’ plots: you may easily plant

different twists and turns on me. In a flash, I cannot remember what mint,

tea or rice taste like. I keep forgetting how many times I have dreamt

insects walking over my bedclothes. (Could it be that I place fewer and fewer

things into my memory?) That was how I even forgot the way

Otto Weininger had chosen to overcome life.

The existence of oblivion, however, makes daily continuance easier.

With such oblivion, I meet requirements for staying in reality;

through recollection, already, I recreate poetry.

From one case to another — I rejoice in oblivion.

I speak now. When it becomes apparent at some point, I feel ill at ease.

I do not remember dates and events, gestures,

maxims, deals… It takes time

Typically not reckonable by verse. And again, I often

pray for it to exist, to spread all over the imposed bitterness.

There, I forgot the Spanish expression for happiness

and the equivalent to our word — silence. I keep forgetting

spy novels’ plots: you may easily plant

different twists and turns on me. In a flash, I cannot remember what mint,

tea or rice taste like. I keep forgetting how many times I have dreamt

insects walking over my bedclothes. (Could it be that I place fewer and fewer

things into my memory?) That was how I even forgot the way

Otto Weininger had chosen to overcome life.

The existence of oblivion, however, makes daily continuance easier.

With such oblivion, I meet requirements for staying in reality;

through recollection, already, I recreate poetry.

From one case to another — I rejoice in oblivion.

I speak now. When it becomes apparent at some point, I feel ill at ease.

I do not remember dates and events, gestures,

maxims, deals… It takes time

Typically not reckonable by verse. And again, I often

pray for it to exist, to spread all over the imposed bitterness.

There, I forgot the Spanish expression for happiness

and the equivalent to our word — silence. I keep forgetting

spy novels’ plots: you may easily plant

different twists and turns on me. In a flash, I cannot remember what mint,

tea or rice taste like. I keep forgetting how many times I have dreamt

insects walking over my bedclothes. (Could it be that I place fewer and fewer

things into my memory?) That was how I even forgot the way

Otto Weininger had chosen to overcome life.

The existence of oblivion, however, makes daily continuance easier.

With such oblivion, I meet requirements for staying in reality;

through recollection, already, I recreate poetry.

From one case to another — I rejoice in oblivion.

I speak now. When it becomes apparent at some point, I feel ill at ease.

I do not remember dates and events, gestures,

maxims, deals… It takes time

Typically not reckonable by verse. And again, I often

pray for it to exist, to spread all over the imposed bitterness.

There, I forgot the Spanish expression for happiness

and the equivalent to our word — silence. I keep forgetting

spy novels’ plots: you may easily plant

different twists and turns on me. In a flash, I cannot remember what mint,

tea or rice taste like. I keep forgetting how many times I have dreamt

insects walking over my bedclothes. (Could it be that I place fewer and fewer

things into my memory?) That was how I even forgot the way

Otto Weininger had chosen to overcome life.

The existence of oblivion, however, makes daily continuance easier.

With such oblivion, I meet requirements for staying in reality;

through recollection, already, I recreate poetry.

From one case to another — I rejoice in oblivion.

I speak now. When it becomes apparent at some point, I feel ill at ease.

I do not remember dates and events, gestures,

maxims, deals… It takes time

Typically not reckonable by verse. And again, I often

pray for it to exist, to spread all over the imposed bitterness.

There, I forgot the Spanish expression for happiness

and the equivalent to our word — silence. I keep forgetting

spy novels’ plots: you may easily plant

different twists and turns on me. In a flash, I cannot remember what mint,

tea or rice taste like. I keep forgetting how many times I have dreamt

insects walking over my bedclothes. (Could it be that I place fewer and fewer

things into my memory?) That was how I even forgot the way

Otto Weininger had chosen to overcome life.

The existence of oblivion, however, makes daily continuance easier.

With such oblivion, I meet requirements for staying in reality;

through recollection, already, I recreate poetry.

From one case to another — I rejoice in oblivion.

I speak now. When it becomes apparent at some point, I feel ill at ease.

I do not remember dates and events, gestures,

maxims, deals… It takes time

Typically not reckonable by verse. And again, I often

pray for it to exist, to spread all over the imposed bitterness.

There, I forgot the Spanish expression for happiness

and the equivalent to our word — silence. I keep forgetting

spy novels’ plots: you may easily plant

different twists and turns on me. In a flash, I cannot remember what mint,

tea or rice taste like. I keep forgetting how many times I have dreamt

insects walking over my bedclothes. (Could it be that I place fewer and fewer

things into my memory?) That was how I even forgot the way

Otto Weininger had chosen to overcome life.

The existence of oblivion, however, makes daily continuance easier.

With such oblivion, I meet requirements for staying in reality;

through recollection, already, I recreate poetry.

From one case to another — I rejoice in oblivion.

I speak now. When it becomes apparent at some point, I feel ill at ease.

I do not remember dates and events, gestures,

maxims, deals… It takes time

Typically not reckonable by verse. And again, I often

pray for it to exist, to spread all over the imposed bitterness.

There, I forgot the Spanish expression for happiness

and the equivalent to our word — silence. I keep forgetting

spy novels’ plots: you may easily plant

different twists and turns on me. In a flash, I cannot remember what mint,

tea or rice taste like. I keep forgetting how many times I have dreamt

insects walking over my bedclothes. (Could it be that I place fewer and fewer

things into my memory?) That was how I even forgot the way

Otto Weininger had chosen to overcome life.

The existence of oblivion, however, makes daily continuance easier.

With such oblivion, I meet requirements for staying in reality;

through recollection, already, I recreate poetry.

From one case to another — I rejoice in oblivion.

I speak now. When it becomes apparent at some point, I feel ill at ease.

I do not remember dates and events, gestures,

maxims, deals… It takes time

Typically not reckonable by verse. And again, I often

pray for it to exist, to spread all over the imposed bitterness.

There, I forgot the Spanish expression for happiness

and the equivalent to our word — silence. I keep forgetting

spy novels’ plots: you may easily plant

different twists and turns on me. In a flash, I cannot remember what mint,

tea or rice taste like. I keep forgetting how many times I have dreamt

insects walking over my bedclothes. (Could it be that I place fewer and fewer

things into my memory?) That was how I even forgot the way

Otto Weininger had chosen to overcome life.

The existence of oblivion, however, makes daily continuance easier.

With such oblivion, I meet requirements for staying in reality;

through recollection, already, I recreate poetry.

From one case to another — I rejoice in oblivion.

I speak now. When it becomes apparent at some point, I feel ill at ease.

I do not remember dates and events, gestures,

maxims, deals… It takes time

Typically not reckonable by verse. And again, I often

pray for it to exist, to spread all over the imposed bitterness.

There, I forgot the Spanish expression for happiness

and the equivalent to our word — silence. I keep forgetting

spy novels’ plots: you may easily plant

different twists and turns on me. In a flash, I cannot remember what mint,

tea or rice taste like. I keep forgetting how many times I have dreamt

insects walking over my bedclothes. (Could it be that I place fewer and fewer

things into my memory?) That was how I even forgot the way

Otto Weininger had chosen to overcome life.

The existence of oblivion, however, makes daily continuance easier.

With such oblivion, I meet requirements for staying in reality;

through recollection, already, I recreate poetry.

From one case to another — I rejoice in oblivion.