Niemand
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My tastes and desires are strange,
I'm exotic, to put it mildly:
I can simultaneously gnaw on glasses
And read Schiller without a dictionary.
In me, there are two selves – two poles of the planet,
Two different people, two enemies:
When one strives for ballet,
The other strives directly for races.
I won't allow any excess in my thoughts,
When I live from the first person,
But often the second self breaks free
In the guise of a scoundrel.
And I'm afraid, I suppress the scoundrel within,
Oh, what a troubled fate is mine!
I'm afraid of making a mistake: it might turn out
That I'm suppressing the wrong second self.
When in my soul, I open up
In those places where sincerity is itself,
Then waitresses give me credit
And women caress me for free.
But then all the ideals fly to hell,
Then I'm rude, intolerant, and angry,
Then I sit and stupidly eat glasses,
Throwing Schiller under the table.