http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borghesia
Night is changing into day. City lights are switching off. Long, empty streets. I walk and my infinitude is cutting me in half. I lay down at the foot of the sky-scraper. I wish someone were here. The tenants are coming out still dreamy, smelling like coffee. When they se me lying, my legs spread and my eyes full of longing, they halt with wide open eyes. The coldness of concrete freezes my bones. Maybe all is in vain. An elderly man approaches, a bag in his hand, and diffidently asks: would you come to my place. I say no, let's do it here, so I can watch the rows of bells and the lists tenants while you penetrate me. He leaves; the coldness and humidity of the early morning give me
shudders. I pick up my rags. Nobody else comes out. My desire for utter pain is crazy. Is it?

(Noc prelazi u dan, Gradska svjetla Se gase. Duga, prazna ulica, Hodam, i moja me beskonacnost presjeca napola. U dnu nebodera legnem. Zelim nekog. Stanari izlaze, jos sneni sa mirisom kave. Kada ugledaju mene, lezecu, sa rasirenim nogama i ocima punima ceznje, zastanu, razgorace oci. Hladnoca betona mi ledi krsta. Mozda je sve uzalud. Pride mi straiji covjek sa kesicom u ruci i bojazljivo veli: hocete li k meni. Kazem: ne ntjele bih vas ovdje da mogu gledati redove zvonaca i spisak stanara dok ulazite u mene. Ode. Hladnoca i vlaga ranog jutra me tresu. Pokupim
svoje prnje. Vise nitko ne izlazi. Moja zelja za krajn jim bolom je luda. Da li?)