(translated by Hans Martin Enzensberger)
shit shits, to brazen shits, shit shit
oh heap to excrement, waste, muck salad
now to stop the muzzle, I wants nothing to know
from your large hero-done
rather this lady into the certain
perhaps helps if it talks this time and it does
Gudrun, the fire-damaged sow, leave
would find I correctly good
say it, if it had to be, we could meet
at plums Whitsuntide in Beirut
in the laundromat of Ahmed its nephew
that its customers choke ourselves before rage