To Vermin

This morning I salute

the weevil, who ruins

the most precious grain.

I reserve my compliments

for the sober larva that does not rest

even in the most crystalline waters.

And spare no applause

for the silverfish, taking their time

in books, without ever learning the Latin for life.

I honor the cockroach

who, in the dim night, gnashes

at the old clothes of ordinary people.

And before the rat

who gnaws at the feet of the people’s table,

I bow, respectfully:

this resembles the passage

of the king who chews up even the dreams

and tears of citizens.

Woodworm and white ant,

to you, vassals of an obscure realm,

my congratulations.

To rapacious insects,

to the plagues that lay waste to crops and livestock,

a word of solidarity.

And I congratulate the squirrels

that nibble the nuts of poetry

on the moist ground of Washington,

and the hare hidden in the hedge

which, sniffed out by hunting dogs,

breaks open what autumn conceals.

And I offer my respects

to the engineer of decay,

the earthworm, who swallows man.

We must devour the wind and the palace,

demolish the structures of rot,

change the face of the world.

And may the admirable termite,

in the sack of corn or among the eaves,

correct for the error of men.