He Who Calls Himself Leader

1927

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This entry contains material that some people may find disturbing.

No one can order his face in advance

And you shouldn’t throw a stone at a dog

Showing its howling muzzle to the night sky.

But when I think about it,

Losing myself in sadness, in this night-cafe

Fogged up in smoke,

And they point out a man across the room,

And tell me who he is,

And when I look at him

And he, with every fold and wrinkle of his…

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