In Memory of Bruno Shultz    The green eyes showed the tiredness    Although without name  Looking for a new form    Through the cloudy night  There was the brilliance  Mute expouding the wordless  As personal fragment of life    Wonderful and handsome  Prosperity although meaning ruin    Who knows how many old and  intelligent martyrdom is in the martyr  And how many cruel idea    Horrible transplant  Hate between strange races and  Species although all prisoners  In unluky life without solution    Ho can uncover in people the  Old faces, lough and glances?    Questions without answer  Illusion without reason  Infancy without happiness  All my words without sense