Gledam, kako gibkega jezika kot gekon
polizneš papirček, ki si ga zvil,
natlačen s spirohetnim tobakom
in nared, da izpusti ta vonj, suh in smrdljiv.
Prižgeš vžigalnico, da mi pokažeš umetnino:
lica udrta in pošastna vlečejo in ven se dim vali
v prstanih, katerih vnebovijoča se odisejada
jih spaja z zrakom, ki z njih se pomočjo duši.
To te ubija, četudi najbrž elegantno,
in mene, ko gledam te zaljubljenega kar iz srca
sovražim, a naj se krivda še tako neznatna nate ne zvali,
ali vsaj tista, ki ne morem s tabo je deliti.
Pomagaj čik mi zviti, tudi jaz: toliko
slabše za enega, toliko slabše za oba.
I'm watchin you, lithe-tongued like a gecko,
lick the paper sealed you've folded over
tamped with spirochetic shag tobacco
and primed to release its drily fetid odour.
You strike a match so show your artistry:
the cheeks suck tight and gaunt and out comes smoke
in rings whose skyward-wafting odyssey
blends them with the air they help to choke.
It's killing you, though stylishly I'm sure,
and let me to see you loving what I loath;
but let no blame however slight attach
to you, or none at least that I can't share.
Helm me roll a fag, me too: so much
the worse for one, so much the worse for both.