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pemci
lu rutni se cortu li'u di'e tcita .i tu'e
le fenki zgike bele tcadu
genai xorvyselsanga
ra'i ko'a goi lo te tonga
poi cmoni fi leka temtordu
gi minji savru secau lo mukti
.i lo'emi pemci be ko'a
roroi fliba le cukyko'a
nu ve muvdu .i fukpi
klaku .uuje'u .i .oi le sorvenstu
za'o kutclu le voksa voi lastu
tu'u ("Artificial Pain": 'The crazy music of the city
is not a Croatian song, made by a tone-source that moans
expressing the briefness of duration, but machine noise
without purpose. My typical poem about it never gets past
the round-corner. Copycat weeper. (Ouch!) The Mall is more
than empty-full of the voice of brass.')
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