​tips too much, that god sitting across from you, again
and again, these extravagant gestures, it brings
me down, brings down
sense and tongue, he, resounding
with my longing, seems to me like a mirror, eyeing
my fleeting glances, my feet tripping
over chairs, idle laughter
or was it coins resounding, seizing
the time, thick with nothing
yet revelry runs fiercely through my senses
as if through the burning house of poetry, my mouth
lit up
with dazzling fire, one day
I’ll say something