"Ikh bin a tsirkus-dame,
Un tants tsvishn kinzshaln...
"I'm a circus dancer
I dance between daggers
(...)
With bated breath, they all gaze at my dancing
While somebody out there prays for me to God
(...)
And nobody knows that I'm longing to fall
"Weary of dancing between you
Icy cold daggers
I want my blood to scald you
And on your nude edges
I'm longing to fall
(Flying Bulgar: a song from a dark side, inspired by Celia Dropkin's edgy and erotic poem Di tsirkus-dame, first published in the poetry collection In heysn vint, NY, 1959.)
A usual raving of intellos: they don't know, what happens if a circus dancer survives falling.
I envy Kafka: he had been working in one of the most beautiful European cities before the world was turned up side down twice and shaken for many times.