Bojevanje

Done!
KiKote!
Vetrenjače zovu!
Divovi opasni, usamljeni!
Vrati razum ludilu, Kihote!
Evo, luda sam i ja
koja u boj idem
bez drugog oružja
osim ruku što grle
divove da ih zaustave.
Ne miriše, Kihote, to hleb.
To miriše oružje
koje blagi vetar divova proizvodi
u kućama veštačkog svetla.
KiKote, osakatiće nas, znam,
a onda ćemo ludi
duvati u vruć hleb
iz vatre koja pucketa.

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