1 Celebrating myself, I have put my blood in my glass From which I made the orchestra Of my letters and dots. 2 May I try dance? Yes, I will get my letters ready For a ballet of my red and white cells. 3 May I try death? Yes, I will get my letter to be a green coffin Borne by the bearded old men To put in the marble palace. I will be with them, Around them, awaiting them. 4 May I try the tale? Yes, but a tale without a beginning Is only a myth. And a myth without an end Is only a superstition. A superstition without a hope Is only icons drop broken upon the heads. 5 May I try pennilessness? May I sell my boyhood? Yes, I have done. And who bought it? The slain Euphrates. May I sell my love? I have done. And who bought it? The women whose (Lo) is missing (ve), Or whose (ve) is missing (Lo) May I sell pleasure? I have done. And who bought it? The toothless time. May I sell night? I have done. And who bought it? The frightened morning. 6 Celebrating my blood, Being happy with it, I have crowned it as a king of words, A sultan of letters, And an emperor of dots. I granted him great feathered – dreams, Peacocks, and mythical orders nobody got before. And when everything got perfectly ready Except the music of greatest happiness, I shot my blood. When my blood twisted in its blood And started to draw the thread of blood Very painfully, The horrible scene astonished me So I laughed, laughed, Wept, And died! ( T p )