I powder myself in the mirror
dressed in Pierrot clothes
my skullcap over ears and eyes

it has been snowing so much
that I can’t choose between black and white
waiting for the spring
to embrace tightly a young birch
to take along with me the trees’ illness

I won’t mourn the yesterdays
like an embalmed mummy
in a hidden room
the sun will avoid my traces
a human still alive
in a leper’s rags